POLITICS, ECONOMIC DEPENDENCE, AND ETHNICITY IN THE YAQUI VALLEY, SONORA

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University Microfilms International 300 N. ZEEB ROAD, ANN ARBOR, Ml 48106 18 BEDFORD ROW, LONDON WC1R 4EJ, ENGLAND 79Z7117 flCGUIREs THOHftS RHODES POLlTICSe ECONOMIC DEPEMDENCEs AND ETHNICITY IM THE YAQUI VALLEY# SDMORA«

THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZOMA, PH»D«s, 1979

Universi^ MicrOTilnns International 300 N. ZEEB ROAD. ANN ARBOR, Ml 48106 POLITICS, ECONOMIC DEPENDENCE, AND ETHNICITY

IN THE YAQUI VALLEY, SONORA

by

Thomas Rhodes McGuire

A Dissertation Submitted to the Facility of the

DEPARTMENT OF ANTHROPOLOGY

In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements For the Degree of

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

In the Graduate College

THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA

19 7 9 THE UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA GRADUATE COLLEGE

I hereby recommend that this dissertation prepared under my direction by Thomas Rhodes McGuire entitled POLITICS, ECONOMIC DEPENDENCE, AND ETHNICITY IN THE YAQUI

VALLEY, SONORA be accepted as fulfilling the dissertation requirement for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy .

Dissertation Director Date /

As members of the Pinal Examination Committee, we certify that we have read this dissertation and agree that it may be presented for final defense.

^ / 7, ^7 / 7 <7

Date/

Date

Date

Date

Final approval and acceptance of this dissertation is contingent on the candidate's adequate performance and defense thereof at the final oral examination.

11/78 STATEMENT BY AUTHOR

This dissertation has been submitted in partial fulfillment of requirements for em advanced degree at The University of Arizona and is deposited in the University Library to be made available to bor­ rowers under rules of the Library.

Brief quotations from this dissertation are allowable without special permission, provided that accurate acknowledgment of source is made. Requests for permission for extended quotation from or re­ production of this manuscript in whole or in part may be granted by the head of the major department or the Dean of the Graduate College when in his judgment the proposed use of the material is in the in­ terests of scholarship. In all other instances, however, permission must be obtained from the author.

siGNKiJt —t—I '—"-ji ACKNOV/LEDGMENTS

To bring this project to completion, I have accumulated a num­ ber of debts. I must acknowledge first an ethnographer's debt — inherently the most difficult to repay — to the Sonoran Yaqui and their Mexican neighbors. I have tried to tell the truth as I inter­ preted it in the field, and, I hope, as they would have me see it, I may have done a disservice to many of them, so they shall all remain ainonymous.

Almost as difficult to repay are my continuing debts to severeil members of the anthropology faculty at The University of Arizona. The late Dr. Thomas Hinton, an astute observer of Sonoran culture and society, provided the initial encouragement to my project, and, as overseer to the department's Comins Fellowship, was instrumental in getting me to the field. During the seemingly endless stage of writing,

Drs. Richard Henderson, Edward Spicer, and Richard Thompson have given me the intellectual help I needed, the encouragement I required, and the autonomy I desired. I hope I have not misused their help, nor abused the autonomy.

I have no doubt that I have abused the facilities of the Depart­ ment of Anthropology and the Arizona State Museum Library. Dorothy

Caranchini quickly perceived that I was incapable of typing out forms in quadruplicate, so she took care of such things, and much more, without complaint. And Daphne Scott of the Library quickly realized that I was incapable of returning books on time, and I am thankful,

iii iv

And I am grateful to Hazel Gillie, who quickly realized that I cannot spell, type, nor proofread, for patiently typing the disser­ tation. For preparing maps on very short notice, I thank Brigid

Sullivan.

Primary financial aid for the field research came from the

National Science Foundation in the form of a Dissertation Improvement

Grant (SOC75-15396), and I am grateful for their flexibility. The com­ pleted project bears little resemblance to the one proposed. For the initial stages of analysis and writing, I thank the V/eatherhead Foun­ dation and the School of American Research, Santa Fe is incomparable as a place for trying to put some thoughts together. And Dr. Douglas

Schwartz is largely responsible for such an atmosphere.

I wish to acknov/ledge the advice and friendship of a number of my fellov/ graduate students, some who have passed through the program, some still in it, and some who were given other things to do. I cannot name them, for they are all miscreants.

Finally, I thank Susan and Teri. Families inevitably suffer during an undertaking such as this; they, I hope, have not suffered beyond their endurance. TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page

LIST OF TABLES viii

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS ix

ABSTRACT x

1. POLITY AND ETHNICITY: THE INQUIRY 1

2. THEORETICAL AND METHODOLOGICAL ISSUES IN THE STUDY OF ETHNICITY 10

Ethnicity as a Categorical Phenomenon ...... 13 Transactions and Identity ...... 13 Pivotal and Peripheral Attributes of Ethnic Identity 19 Classifying and the Nature of the Observer .... 22 Observers, Attributes, and Purposes 25 The Instrumentality of Ethnic Identity 27 Ethnic Boundaries and Resovirce Competition: Summary Fieldwork and the Nature of Information . 35

3. SOCIETY AND HISTORY IN THE YAQUI VALLEY k3

River Towns and the Five Ya' uraun ...... kk The Corporate Yaqui Polity .. 50 Economic Expansion in the Yaqui Valley ...... 56 Railroads, Land Speculation, and Revolt ..... 57 Canals and Colonists in the Valle Nuevo ..... 62 Population Shifts and the Growth of a City .... 69 k. DESCENT AND PERFORMANCE: YAQUI ETHNIC IDENTITY 75

Pivotal Attributes of Yaqui Identity 75 Secondary Attributes of Yaqui Identity ...... 86 Dress 87 Language ..... 89 Traditional Knowledge and Shared Historical Experience 95 Ritual-Political Participation 101 Maintenance of Secondary Attributes . 103 Summeiry: Who is a Yaqui? 105

V vi

TABLE OF CONTENTS—Continued

Page

V/ealth, Power, and Prestige 106 Ritual as Performance 121 Audience, Space, and Time 125 Sanctions and Incitement: Boundary Maintenance cind Stereotypy 135

5. SAN IGNACIO, RIO MUERTO . I38

The Pequenos Propietarios and the CCI 1^1 Yaqui Politicians and the Issues 148 "El Camino de la Ley" 150 End of the Sexenio l6k Mass, Organization, and Resources: An Analysis .... 171

6. VALLE AND ZONA: THE STRUCTURE OF DEPENDENCY I80

Economic Development and Social Welfare in Mexico ... I80 Agricultural Development: Policy and Practice . . 184 The Economic Consequences of Expropriation in the Yaqui Valley I89 Dependency in the Zona 194 Irrigation Agriculture in Potam 194 Sociedades and Particulares 202 Summary: The Paradoxes of Development ...... 212

7. PESCADORES; MARGINAL RESOURCES AND POLITICAL SUCCESS . 215

History and Organization of the Fishing Cooperative . . 216 Ecology of Yaqui Shrimping 222 Expansion and Resource Competition > 231 Demands and Concessions 234 Corporate Organization 237 Marginality of Resources 24l Residence, Ceremony, and Ethnicity 245 Summary 247

8. RESOURCES, POVffiR, AND ETHNICITY IN SOUTHERN SONORA .... 248

Corporate Polity and Resource Competition 250 Ethnic Boundaries and Ceremonial Performances ..... 253 Ethnic Identity: Ascription and Achievement ..... 254 Polity and Ethnicity: A Trial Model • 256 Change and Persistence in the Yaqui Zone 260 vii

TABLE OF CONTENTS—Continued

Page

APPENDIX A: AREA CULTIVATED IN THE YAQUI VALLEY 26?

LIST OF REFERENCES 266 LIST OF TABLES

Page Table

1. Elements in the ethnic classification process ...... 28

2. Claims to terrenes baldxos in Sonora 6l

3. Land ownership in the Valle del Yaqui 1935 75

k. Variations in wealth, power, and social prestige .... 120

5« Distribution of lands by presidential term, 192^1958 .. l86

6. Location coefficients for Sonoran crops l88

7. Expenditures for social services, 1972 223

8. Distribution of shrimp catches by socios, 1972 ..... 225

viii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Figure Page

1, The coast of northwest Mexico, 1975 ^7

2, The Yaqui Delta, 1917? cultivated lands and canals . o 68

3* Bahia de Lobos 227

4, Guasimas and the Estero del Yasicuri 228

ix ABSTRACT

A number of anthropologists have argued that the complex phe­ nomena of ethnicity can best be understood within a framework that focuses on political and economic processes. One recent formulation of this approach states that ethnic populations v/hich develop corporate political organizations will have competitive advantages in struggles for access to economic resources; in turn, these struggles will enhance feelings of ethnic identity among group members and strengthen social boundaries between groups.

In severeil respects, contemporary Yaqui society in southern

Sonora, Mexico, can be analyzed within this theoretical framework. The

Yaqui are a corporately organized ethnic group; this corporate polity has been activated to compete vdth local and regional economic inter­ ests for resources; and ethnic boundaries between Yaqui and Mexican societies remain strong. Yet this framework falls short of adequately interpreting Yaqui ethnic identity. First, Yaquis have only been par­ tially successful in their demands for increased access to resources.

Petitions by the corporate polity for exclusive Yaqui rights to coastal fish resources were granted, while demands by the same polity for control of increased irrigated acreage near the Yaqui River were denied. The cause for this differential success can be found in the relative importance of these two sets of resources to regional and national economic and political interests. Yaqui coastal resources

X xi are marpjinal to such interests, while irrigated farmlands in the Yaqui

Valley are crucial to the development of Mexican export aKricult\are.

Second, Yaqui fishermen are relatively less involved than their farming counterparts in the outward manifestations of Yaqui ethnic identity; of traditional patterns of dress, ritual performance, and language use. This suggests that, contrary to accepted theory, in­ terest in ethnic identity may be relatively independent of success or failure in the competition for resources. Third, and again in contrast to the implications of recent theories of ethnic identity, an indi­ vidual's rights and duties as a member of the Yaqui ethnic group are not affected by his allegiance to the traditional manifestations of

Yaqui ethnicity.

These findings aire used to suggest a more adequate interpreta­ tion of the processes of resource competition and ethnic identity among the Yaqui. The success or failure of Yaquis in the arenas of resource competition is due more to the nature of those resources and to Mexican political and economic interests in those resources, than to the strength or weakness of the Yaqui corporate polity. Regardless of the outcomes of these struggles, though, the existence and strength of the Yaqui corporate polity has allov/ed Yaqui group membership to be founded upon ascription or descent, rather than upon performsinces of the behaviors associated with traditional symbols of Yaqui ethnicity.

Such ethnic performances have not disappeared from contemporary

Yaqui society, however. Distinctive Yaqui ceremony is still strong, and attendance by Yaqui and Mexicsin audiences is enthusiastic, Social and cultural boundaries between Yaqui and Mexican ultimately rest on the very opeiiness of indigenous rituals: through such attendance,

Mexicaul audiences aire forcefully reminded of Yaqui ethnic distinctive­ ness, and Yaquis, as observers of both ritual and audience, receive the same message of boundary maintenance and reinforcement® CHAPTER 1

POLITY AI^D ETHNICITY: MIE INQUIRY

Past ethnography and historiography of the Yaqui left me strangely ill-equipped to understand the contemporary situation in southern Sonora. I was struck, early in my stay, with several im­ pressions about Yaqui society, impressions that seemed logically dis­ connected to the interpreted Yaqui past of intense, organized, often violent opposition to the encroaching Mexican economy and polity, I was struck, first, v;ith the apparent stability of interpersonal rela­ tions across ethnic lines. Little overt ethnic tension surfaced during my fieldworko Indeed, there v;as much evidence of cooperative, even friendly interaction between Yaqui and yori (Mexican) in and around the Yaqui Zone, I was impressed, too, with a surprising lack of ethnic assertiveness on the part of most Yaquis I came to be associated with: in the idiom of contemporary social theory, Yaqui ethnic identity seemed largely "under-communicated," Finally, I became increasingly convinced of a wide gulf between norm and action. A variety of Yaqui customs, abstract values, and prescriptions for the conduct of mundane life seemed to be observed in the breach.

None of these impressions — of apparent intergroup stability, of the under-communication of identity, of the differentiation between norm and action — could be easily reconciled to the dynamics of Yaqui-

Mexican confrontation in the past. Nor did they comfortably fit with

1 2 the hard facts of the present. Economically, Yaquis are now tightly- bound to a system of export agriculture, dominated by outsiders who control all the essential factors of production and distribution save the land. But culturally, contemporary Yaquis are adamantly persis­ tent: the complex ceremonial schedule, voracious as it is of human energy, time, and money, is still actively carried on.

Ritual persistence in the face of economic domination and market involvement is something of a paradox (see W, R. Smith 1977).

More problematical is the reconciliation of ritual persistence with intergroup stability, under-communication, and differentiation. One would expect, at first glance, to find ritual going hand-in-hand — reinforcing but also deriving from — a tight association between ac­ tions and norms. V/e would expect distinctive ritual to provide reasons and ammunition for interethnic conflict. And we would expect ritual to yield up ample symbols and opportunities for the active communica­ tion of ethnic distinctiveness. One of my tasks, then, is to under­ stand why these expectations are not fulfilled in contemporary Yaqui society.

A second task, around which the solution to the first will largely hinge, is to understsind the current role of Yaqui polity. Here again, traditional expectations are not directly supported by on-the- ground reality. Yaquis are as politically autonomous as they are economically dependent. On some issues, too, Yaquis are as politi­ cally unsuccessful as they are politically united.

My concerns, then, are with Yaqui politics, ceremony, and ethnicity. These are by no means new concerns in Cahitan studies. 3

They form, in fact, the central pivots of the works of Spicer, Erasmus,

Beals, and a number of other observers of southern Sonora. My reasons

for entering into the crowded mainstream of Yaqui scholarship are not

so much to argue against previous interpretations — which are, in any

case, quite logically sound and empirically based — but to apply

Yaqui material to some fledgling theoretical developments in the an­

thropological study of ethnic identity.

Anthropological theories often go through laborious changes.

Clifford Geertz has usefully turned to Susanne Langer's Philosophy in

a New Key for the patterning of these changes. At the first stage, of

"sudden vogue,"

...certain ideas burst upon the intellectual landscape with a tremendous force. They resolve so majiy fundamental problems at once that they seem also to promise that they will resolve all fundamental problems, clarify all obscure issues. Every­ one snaps them up as the open sesame of some new positive science, the conceptual center-point around which a comprehen­ sive system of analysis can be built (Geertz 1973:5)•

Subsequently, though, a period of retrenchment sets in. Regarding the

grande idee, Geertz (.2.973'3-^) observes,

...oiur expectations are brought more into balance v/ith its actual uses, and its excessive popularity is ended. A few zealots persist in the old key-to-the-universe view of it; but less driven thinkers settle down after a while to the problems the idea has really generated. They try to apply it and ex­ tend it where it applies and is capable of extension; and they desist where it does not apply or cannot be extended.

Geertz speaks of this contextualization as happening to the grande idee of anthropology itself — the concept of culture. Less grandiose in scale, and in msiny cases less strticulate and self-confident in their 4 results, writers on ethnicity seem to be now struggling with the prob­ lems of modification, not of one but of two conceptual approaches. Leo

Despres's (1975) summation to the symposium, Ethnicity and Resource

Competition in Plursil Societies is indicative of the contextualization process: it raises a host of questions, but answers few of them.

Despres, it should be noted, is himself a central actor in a

"sudden vogue" stage of ethnicity studies. He has long held that eth­ nicity is above all an instrumental phenomenon: ethnic identities and their symbolic accoutrements are manipulable. They are, in a sense, political resources, bases for organizing groups so as to enhance political or economic power. Thus, he can introduce such claims as the following.

By definition, ethnic boundaries express some organization of status identities to which status claims of one type or an­ other are attached. With respect to material resources, to the extent that these status claims confer competitive advan­ tage upon populations who assert them, sociail boundaries supportive of categorical ethnic identities will persist® Conversely, when such claims confer no particular advantage in this regard, ethnic boundaries weaken and the assertion of ethnic identities appears to diminish (Despres 1975s199)•

Partisan to his ov;n position, Despres expresses at the same time an increasing dissatisfaction with the second recent vogue, the program set forth in Fredrik Earth's (I969) Ethnic Groups and Bound­ aries. Barth views ethnic identities less as instrumental, political phenomena and more as simply categorical and subjective ones. The key issues to Barth are not hov/ ethnic identities can be used, but how ethnic groups form and persist — how individuals subjectively cate­ gorize themselves and others as members of discrete groups, and how 5 these discrete groups are preserved despite, and because of, numerous individual interactions across group boundaries.

These differences aside (I will discuss them in more detail in the following chapter), Despres attempts a summary framework that will align his own concerns in the politics of ethnicity with those of Barth in the ascription and achievement of ethnic group membership. Despres acknowledges, for example, that ethnic phenomena are multidimensional.

They simultaneously engage elements that tend to be concep­ tualized in reference to the analysis of cultural systems, organized groups, and individual transactions. Unless these elements aire ordered within some more systematic and in­ clusive theoretical freunework, it will be difficult to derive and comparatively establish generalizations in respect to poly-ethnic societies (Despres 1975Jl9't)«

Here is where the easy answers end and the host of questions — the process of contextualization — begins. Despres can do little more than suggest some co-variant relations'iips among these several dimen­ sions of ethnicity. His pet co-variant has already been cited. V^hen ethnic group membership yields no special advantage in the competition over resources, boundaries will weaken and the assertion of ethnic identities will diminish. Equally suggestive, and tentative, is an­ other potential co-variant; "... ethnic populations are one type of structural phenomena and ethnic groups are quite another, and each type may differentially influence the system of inter-ethnic relations that might obtain among individuals" (Despres 1975:196). V/ithout following through on all its ramifications, Despres is here making a critical distinction betv/een population aggregates and corporately organized groups. Ethnic populations are aggregates of individuals which show determinate boundaries and membership based on categorical 6 identification. Ethnic groups may share these features of boundaries and membership, but they differ from ethnic populations in being politi­ cally organized; "Internally, they reveal governmental processes; externally, they generally reveal a determinate set of political rela­ tionships" (Despres 1975tl96).

Despres limits the import of this distinction to potentially variant differences in individual relationships across ethnic bound­ aries; he does not predict in any detail what these variations may be.

Suggested, as well, is the notion that the corporate organization of an ethnic population may enhaince that group's chances of success in the competition for resources. Characteristically possessing "a common estate, a unitary set of external relations, a relatively exclusive body of common affairs, and procedures which are more or less adequate to the administration of these affairs" (Despres 1975:196), corporate organizations would presumably have the legitimacy and the personnel to, in a sense, speak with one voice. They would have the potential to enter into legal negotiations, when appropriate, and perhaps to mobilize mass support when negotiations collapse.

VJith his explicit concern for relations of power, Despres curi­ ously neglects a systematic analysis of the conditions under which ethnic populations become — are allowed to become — politically or­ ganized ethnic groups. Likewise, he fails to systematically explore the actual outcomes of corporately-expressed demands for resoiirces: he does not sufficiently acknowledge the potential for failure in the face of overwhelming political and economic power. 7

Ironically, corporate ethnic organizations have been treated

more successfully by anthropologists working in African cities, where such groups are frequently absent. Abner Cohen deals with two crucial problems; the potential efficiency of formal, corporately organized groups, and the conditions under which formal organization is precluded.

Following Max V/eber, Cohen observes that formal groups, "rationally planned on bureaucratic lines," are the most effective and efficient type of organization. The efficiency of formal groups can be seen most easily by juxtaposition to informally organized interest groups, groups

(or "aggregates" in Despres' terms) which attempt to articulate inter­ ests along diffuse lines of kinship, friendship, and ritual.

This strategy of organizing a group on the basis of different types of obligation which are not consciously adopted or planned, is likely to be wasteful in time and energy, and is not as efficient in achieving the group's ends as formal or- ganizationo For example, instead of organizing an official meeting for the members of the group to discuss a current problem, the informal group will attend a ceremonial during which the problem is only informally and unsystematically dis­ cussed, amidst a great deal of what for the achievement of the ends of the group are irrelevant symbolic activities, though these activities may at the same time satisfy some important personality needs (Cohen 197^:68).

Formal organization may thus be markedly more efficient than informal organization. It may also be very difficult to achieve and maintain.

Cohen has exsimined the changing organizational fortunes of the

Nigerian Hausa under colonial and independent regimes. A colonial policy of indirect rule allowed and fostered corporate organization of tribal entities. V/ith independence, the politics of nationalism over­ took those of tribalism; the distinctiveness and corporateness of ethnic groups were no longer officially sanctioned. Hausa organiza­ tion in Ibadan was directly and swiftly undermined. 8

Their community was no longer officiailly recognized as an ex­ clusive 'tribal' group and the support which had been given by the colonial government to the authority of the Hausa chief was withdrawn. The weakening position of the chief affected not only the organization of the functions of communication, decision-making, and co-ordination of policy within the quarter, but also the very distinctiveness of the community because it was no longer possible for the chief to coerce individuals to act in conformity with the corporate interests of the group (Cohen 197^:103).

In the power context of independent Nigeria, the Hausa were

prevented from retaining their polity. They tiorned, with a vengeance,

to ritual. The majority of Ibadan Hausa were initiated into a mystical

Islamic sufi brotherhood.

The adoption of the Tijanyya by the quarter brought about pro­ cesses which halted the disintegration of the bases of the ex- clusiveness and identity of the quarter. The reorganization of the quarter's religion was at the same time a reorganization of the quarter's political organization. A new myth of distinc­ tiveness for the quarter was founded. The community was now a superior, puritanical, ritual community, a religious brother­ hood distinct from the masses of Yoruba Muslims in the city, complete with their separate Friday raosque, Friday congrega­ tion and a separate cemetery (Cohen 197^+510^).

Politically marginalized groups — at least Cohen's Hausa — resort then to an active manipulation of traditional or non-traditional symbols for the articulation of political and economic interests. We can logically expect the converse: corporately organized groups need

to rely less on the manipulation of symbols. In a sense, the organi­ zational "weight" is taken off traditional institutions of ritual, of kinship, of friendship. V/hat happens to these traditional, normative, institutions — which may once have served very forcefully to articu­ late political interests and maintain group boundaries — when such organizing weight is removed, placed instead on a corporate polity? 9

This question will be one of my central concerns. It will be matched with a second. How does the corporate polity of an ethnic group fare in the arenas of resource competition in southern Sonora? V/hat are the outcomes of contests joined between the Yaqui and an array of local, regional, and national interests? CHAPTEE 2

THEORETICAL AND METHODOLOGICAL ISSUES IN THE STUDY OF ETHNICITY

The increasing interest in einalyses of ethnic identity and

group boundary maintenance derives in part from traditional anthro­

pological concern with culture contact, acculturation, and assimila­

tion. More importantly, perhaps, this interest stems from a pressing

need to explain a belatedly acknowledged phenomenon of "ethnogenesis:"

the "proclivity of people to seize on traditional cultural symbols as

a definition of their own identity — either to assert the Self over

and above the impersonal State, or to obtain the resources one needs

to survive and consume" (Bennett 1975:3)*

My purpose in this chapter is to examine some recent theoreti­

cal developments in the study of ethnicity •— to explore ways in which

they may contribute to an understanding not of ethnogenesis, but of

long-standing ethnic persistence.

Trained observers invariably agree that Yaquis have success­

fully battled repeated attempts by Spaniards and Mexicans to destroy

their ritual expressions, co-opt their political institutions, and

control their productive land (cf. Spicer 195^, 1961; Beals 19^+5;

Erasmus 19^7; Bartell 1965)• Indeed, Sonoran Yaqui society is the archetype for Spicer's (1971i 1976) concept of the "persistent iden­

tity system." Spicer outlines two major facets of such systems:

10 first, a "coherent sense of collective identity" (Spicer 1976:6), and

second, the individual's relation to, or participation in, this collec­

tive identity (Spicer 1971:799). The first involves the realm of pub­

lic symbols and their meanings. In persistent identity systems, as

Spicer notes, "the meanings of the symbols consist of beliefs about

historical events in the experience of the people through generations"

(Spicer 1971:796). The second facet is a necessary complement to any

theory of symbolic behavior.

ViTiat we are dealing with here are beliefs and sentiments, learned like other cultural elements, that are associated with particular symbols, such as artifacts, words, role behaviors, and ritual acts. ... The display and manipulation of the symbols calls forth sentiments and stimulates the affirmation of beliefs on the part of the individuals who participate in the collective identity system (Spicer 1971:796).

Spicer thus lays the theoretical groundwork for the examination

of the relation between collective symbols and individual sentiments.

However, more emphasis in his scheme is placed on the historical de­

velopment of identity systems than on contemporary symbolic action.

This focus is codified in his primary definition of symbols: "beliefs about historical events." He identifies an historical process through which these beliefs crystallize and acquire sanctity: the "oppositional process" of

...continued conflict between these peoples and the con­ trollers of the surrounding state apparatus. The conflict has occurred over issues of incorporation and assimilation into the larger whole (Spicer 19715 797).

In his concern with the historical unfolding of identity sys­ tems through opposition, Spicer clearly implicates a political-economic approach to ethnicity. Yet his "oppositional process" does not cut 12

finely enough for analytical purposes: cases will undoubtedly differ in the relative power of dominant and dominated groups, in the mesins by v;hich domination is maintained, and in the ability of opposed groups to mobilize their resources for conflict. These represent only a minimal set of variables to be taken into account in the study of ethnic identity.

Leo Despres (1975) is likewise concerned with the interplay of state politicad-economic processes and enclaved ethnic groups. Incor­ porated into Despres' proposition are two distinct phenomena of eth­ nicity: the categorical and the instrumental. We must analyze not only the nature of categorical ethnic identities: how population aggregates are classified into more-or-less discrete ethnic groups, how specific individuals are placed into these entities. We must also analyze the purposes that such categorizing processes may serve. Here

Despres is expressing a grov/ing consensus among anthropologists: that ethnic identities serve primarily economic and political purposes.

They enhance a group's access to political power and productive re­ sources.

The issues here are complex; the answers by no means as par­ simonious as Despres suggests. In subsequent sections of this chapter

I want to develop some theoretical guidelines for analyzing both the categorical and the instrumental phenomena of ethnicity. Then I want to return to Despres' hypothesized relation between competitive advan­ tage and the persistence of identities. Despres' thesis, with its logical alternatives, will form the basis for analyzing Yaqui 13

categorical identities, agricultural competition, and access to mari­

time resources.

Ethnicity as a Categorical Phenomenon

Transactions and Identity

In his important introduction to Ethnic Groups and Boundaries,

Fredrik Barth (I969) shaped a dominant trend in anthropological studies

of ethnicity: the scrutiny of structured interaction across ethnic

boundaries, joined with an examination of criteria for ascribed and

achieved membership in ethnic groups.

The key tenet in Earth's investigations of ethnic identity and

group boundaries — the theory of transactions — is to be found in

his earlier programmatic work, Models of Social Organization (Barth

1966). In Models, Barth defines transactions as "those sequences of interaction which are systematically governed by reciprocity" (Barth

1966;'+). The strategy which governs transaction or interaction between individuals is the attempt by each psirty to the relationship to ensure

that the value gained for himself is equal to or greater than the value lost. Broadly, transaction refers to material or immaterial "items" or "prestations;" for example, animals, food, labor, power, prestige, or trust (see Kapferer 1976:1). Formally stated, Earth's claim is that

where for actor A, x g y, and for actor B, x ^ y (cf. Barth 1966:13).

For Barth, the utility of the transactional model lies in re­ lating individual choice to the constraining circumstances of statuses, obligations, and values. He employs transactions in two manners:

first as a device for understanding hov stereotypic role behaviors are

produced by individual choice as well as by the obligations inherent

in statuses; and second, for comprehending how disparate values may be

altered through choice and interaction,

Erving.Goffman's (1959) early work provides the impetus for

the first use of transaction by Barth. Recognizing the static nature

of status and the dynamic nature of role, Goffman argues that actors,

in the initial stages of successful interaction, must reach consensus

on the definition of situation. This agreement is essential for

selecting which of a person's many statuses is applicable to the situ­

ation; and, in the process of defining the situation and closing in on

the appropriate statuses, regular stereotypic forms of behavior are

generated. These forms of behavior, which Goffman and Barth term

"roles," are thus not direct outcomes of status obligations. Rather,

they are the outcomes of the process of communicating one's own defi­

nition of situation to the other actors. Here Goffman introduces the

strategy of "impression management," whereby individuals, in any given

situation, act so as to over-communicate relevant statuses and under-

communicate states which are inapplicable to the situation®

Goffman thus deals primarily with the first use of transaction

noted above: the transition from status to role. Barth is more inter­

ested in the second potentiality: the feedback process by which

"instances of transaction affect in turn both the canons and distri­

bution of values, and in pEirt compel the 'correction' of these values"

(Barth 1966:15). 15

The self-regulating function of transaction is the most im­

portant theoretical claim put forward by Barth, structuring his entire

approach to ethnic boundaries and their maintenance. It is also a

vulnerable tenet, leading ironicailly to the conclusion of total or

near-total functional and conceptual "integration" of cultures

Barth (1966:12) initieilly defines "integration" as the "extent

to which phenomena constitute a system, share determinacy and consis­ tency in relation to each other." The phenomena he scrutinizes are

"values," defined as "people's principles and scales of evaluation, as well as . . « such abstracted amounts or ratings of preferences which appear to be relatively stable over time" (Earth 1966:12). More specifically, values are "views about significance, worthwhileness, preferences in/for things and actions" (Barth 1966:12). Thus the prob­ lem becomes one of understanding the process by which consistency is created among possibly disparate evaluations and preferences.

Key to this process, as might be expected, is the operation of repeated transactions. Earth's (1966:13-1^) argument here is cru­ cial, so it is necessary to quote extensively.

The offer or performance of such a transaction has two aspects which concern us here. Firstly, prestations 'x' and 'y' are made transitive to each other, in the sense that they must be compared and made commensurate and interchangeable both by 'A' and 'B'. This means that the values of 'x' and 'y' must be compared. If their significance and worthwhileness cannot be judged by the same canons, some overairching value principle between those disparate canons must be constructed. This con­ stitutes a step in creating consistency of values. ... V/hatever the basis for the transaction may be, through it the parties receive information indicative of each other's prin­ ciples and scales of evailuation. Through repeated transac­ tions I would argue that these aspects are reinforced, and that the values applying to those prestations which flow be­ tween parties become systematized and shared. They become 16

systematized because when, and only when, we are faced with the repeated necessity of choice, are we forced to resolve dilemmas and make some kind of comparison between, and evaluation of, the alternatives with which we are presented. They become shared, or institutionalized, because in groping for a solution to the dilemmas, we prefer to use other people's experience as our guide rather than risk the errors implied in a trial-and- error procedure. Thus we adopt their principles of eveiluation, and collectively grope towards a consistency of values (Barth 1966:15-1^).

For transactions between actors to occur, then, the "items" must be commensurable, since, by definition, each actor has to receive some­

thing of equal or greater value than that which he offers. Where items are not initially commensurable, they must be made so, through the con­ struction of a covering value. Thus, through repeated transactions, increasingly consistent preferences and evaluation scales are formed,

Anthony V/allace has effectively challenged the fundamental premise underlying Earth's theory of transaction and cultural integra­ tion: that successful and continued interaction demands a mutual agreement on values (Wallace 1970; see also Paine 197^:18-23; Salisbury

1976). Based on field research and clinical studies, V/allace (1970:

35) is led to the conclusion that,

Many a social subsystem simply will not "work" if all partici­ pants share common knowledge of the system. It would seem therefore that cognitive non-uniformity may be a functional desideratum of society.

Such non-sharing, he argues, serves two crucial purposes. First, it allows for the development of a more complex social system than cam be comprehended by any and all of its participants. Second, it relieves participants from the burden of discovering and understanding each other's cognitions and motivations. All that is required for success­ ful interaction, he claims, is that individuals be able to predict behavior of others under various circumstances, "irrespective of knowl­

edge of their motivation" (Wallace 1970!35)• Thus predictable, the

behavior of others can be "predictably related to one's ovm actions,"

calling forth appropriate responses.

Wallace's conclusions still need to be adequately tested.

Nevertheless, they demand a skeptical response to Earth's contention

of inevitable, more or less rapid, integration of values through inter­

action. One must, in turn, be cautious of Earth's approach to ethnic

boundary maintenance, for it is integrally founded on the transaction-

integration thesis of Models.

In his programmatic introduction to Ethnic Groups and Bound­

aries, Earth (1969:17) structures his theory around three elements.

First, ethnicity is viewed as a status, and as such, "implies a series

of constraints on the kinds of roles an individual is allowed to play"

(Earth 1969:17). As a status, ethnicity has both ascribed and achieved

aspects: an individual's identity is often, for example, ascribed to

him by virtue of his "origin and background" (Earth 1969:13). But the

second key element in Earth's theory is that an individual's ethnic

identification demands validation by others. This process of valida­

tion requires a "sharing of criteria for evaluation and judgment"

(Barth 1969:15) of a person's role performances by other members of

the ethnic group. Thus, over and above the ascribed factors of origin

and background, an individual must achieve his ethnic status through

the requisite performsinces. As Earth (1969:25) argues.

Since ethnic identity is associated with a culturally specific set of value standards, it follows that there are circumstances where such an identity can be moderately successfully realized, 18

and limits beyond which such success is precluded. I will argue that ethnic identities will not be retained beyond these limits, because allegiance to basic value standards will not be sustained where one's own comparative performance is utterly inadequate.

These first two elements of the thesis serve to define ethnicity as a

categorical and subjective phenomenon. Individuals come to be defined,

categorically, as belonging to one ethnic group or another, and this

dichotoraization is founded on subjective measurement of an individusil*s

actions against criteria of evaluation and judgment.

To this point, Barth's theory is indistinguishable from more

traditional views of ethnic groups as dichotomized populations whose

members share a set of values or cultural configurations. The append­ age of a third element, drawn directly from his earlier Models, does differentiate his theory. Barth concerns himself with the logical im­ plications of transaction and integration in situations of interaction between members of different ethnic groups, sharing different sets of values and evaluations. Thus,

...where persons of different cultures interact, one would expect these differences to be reduced, since interaction both requires and generates a congruence of codes and values—in other v/ords, a similarity or community of culture (Barth 1969: 16).

It follows from this assumption that the entire process of ethnic boundary maintenance is one of careful structuring of contact and interaction situations. Structuring, according to Goffman (1959)t is governed by a systematic set of rules prescribing and proscribing the content of interaction. These rules allow for,

...articulation in some sectors or domains of activity ... preventing interethnic interaction in other sectors, and thus insulating parts of the cultures from confrontation and modi­ fication (Barth 1969tl6). 19

To the extent that V/allace's claims are valid, we should find

little evidence of such a systematic set of interaction rules. To the

extent that Earth's theory of transactions and value integration is

correct, these insulating rules will be paramount. Presumably, the

most crucial parts of culture that must be so insulated are the sets

of evaluations and judgments pertaining to ethnic identity; for if

these facets become subject to transaction, they will inevitably be

modified in the direction of consistency across two societies. Ethnic

differences would then disappear; ethnic boundaries would evaporate.

Pivotal and Periphersil Attributes of Ethnic Identity

While Earth's program affords a variety of suggestive ap­

proaches to ethnic identity and boundary maintenance, and has indeed

stimulated excellent empirical work (cf. essays in Earth 1969; Braroe

1975; Hicks and Kertzer 1972), it is not entirely adequate to an under­

standing of Yaqui ethnic identity. Sonoran Yaquis, as I will attempt

to show in a subsequent chapter, have little concern for the achieve­

ment of ethnic status through successful performances. Rather, Yaqui

identity is essentially ascribed, on the basis of "origin and back­

ground;" failure to perform adequately has little effect on the ethnic

status, the rights and duties, of individuals.

A more productive approach to Yaqui identity may be built a

around S. F. Nadel's (1957t5l) insights into the structure of roles.

Roles, to Nadel, are "interconnected series of attributes" These

attributes, however, are "not all equivalent or of the same order ... any role series has a definite structure, of a hierarchical kind, in 20

which the various attributes occupy places of graded relevance" (Nadel

1957:31)• He distinguished three main grades of attributes:

(1) peripheral: their variation or absence does not affect the perception or effectiveness of the role which is being performed; in other words, they are understood to be opti­ mal or to admit of alternatives (Nadel 19575 31-32). (2) sufficiently relevant; that is, sufficiently firmly entailed in the series, for their variation or absence to make a difference in the perception and effectiveness of the role, rendering its performance noticeably imperfect or incomplete (Nadel 1957?32). (3) basic or pivotal; their absence of variation changes the whole identity of the role, and hence the interaction it would normally provoke (Nadel 1957:32).

The immediate methodological problem, as Nadel recognized, is

the means for identifying the pivotal attributes of roles. He sug­

gested, inadequately I think, that the "simplist and quickest way to

decide what a role 'basically' means is to refer to the semantic con­

tent of the conventional role name" (Nadel 1957t33). The difficulty with this approach, quickly acknov/ledged by Nadel, is that role names are "shorthand symbols for the array of properties which the entity named is presumed to possess" (Nadel 19575 33); this "array" logically subsumes sufficiently relevant and peripheral attributes as well as pivotal ones.

An alternative approach to identifying pivotal attributes of roles is suggested by Ward Goodenough (1969). More specifically than

Nadel, he ties the concepts of role and status to "rights and duties."

As used in juresprudence, rights and duties are two sides of the same coin. In any relationship A's rights over B are the things he can demand of B; these same things are what B owes A, B's duties in the relationship (Goodenough 1969:315)» 21

For my analysis of Yaqui ethnic identity, of Yaqui "status," I will take these rights and duties as primary. Thus, basic or pivotal attributes of this status will simply be those which, upon empirical examination, serve to allocate the rights and duties of Yaqui status to individuals. In other words, the rights and duties attendant upon

Yaqui status (v/hich are, of course, also matters for empirical dis­ covery), are allocated to individuals by the fact that they evidence certain pivotal attributes. In this sense, then, Nadel's "sufficiently relevant" and "peripheral" attributes are of the same order; presence of these attributes has no effect on the allocation of the rights and duties of a given role or status.

Nadel defines two types of roles: recruitment and achievement roles. The first encompasses roles where "the governing attribute is an inevitable or fortuitous state in which the individuals find them­ selves; it then entails the 'further characteristics'—all the other attributes in the series—as consequences or concomitants (Nadel 1957!

36). In achievement roles, on the other hand, "the governing property is a behavioral attribute ... which individuals are free to choose as a goal or objective, the 'further characteristics' are entailed in it either as necessary preconditions or again as consequences and con­ comitants" (Nadel 1957t36). Essentially (Nadel's subtle arguments to the contrary ^957:37-^1/), his recruitment roles are Earth's "ascribed statuses," roles founded upon properties over which the individual has no control.

They may be physiological characteristics (sex, age, somantic features), IotJ qualities of descent and extraction. ... (Nadel 1957:23). 22

V/ith these equivalencies, then, Barth's emphasis on ethnic

identity as an achieved status (or role) can be rephrased in terms of

Nadel's framework; Barth views the "governing property" of ethnicity

as lying in the realm of "sufficiently relevant" (and perhaps even

"peripheral") attributes. A "noticeably imperfect or incomplete per­

formance" of these attributes, Barth would imply, dictates that one's

claim to a specific ethnic identity will be abrogated. The alternative

approach, which I find more useful in understanding the Yaqui case, is

to give primacy to the recruitment or ascription facet of ethnic iden­

tity, in which "origin and background" serve as the pivotal attributes

around which rights and duties are allocated. Neither "sufficiently relevant" nor "peripheral" attributes have, as I will try to demon­

strate, important effects on the allocation of rights and duties of

Yaqui ethnic status.

Classifying and the Nature of the Observer

Reducing ethnic identity to pivotal attributes, to rights and

duties, to ascription, as I have done, neglects the important function

played by secondary attributes in the perception of ethnic groups and

in the ready classification of specific individuals to discrete ethnic

groups. V/e do not have to accept Barth's ideas on the careful struc­

turing of interaction across ethnic lines so as to prevent the "inte­ gration" and hence loss, of distinct values systems. Yet we can allow that individuals must classify their interactants for purposes of generating appropriate behavior and predicting responses. And, empiri­ cally, it may be determined that, "the reciprocal recognition of ethnic 23

differentiation is a prominent factor in many critical spheres of human

relations" (Thompson 197^:106). Likewise, categorizing processes pro­

ceed at a group level, in the construction and maintenance of ethnic

stereotypes. Discussing ethnicity in the Yucatan, Richard Thompson

suggests:

In reaility, there may be few objective differences between a given Mestizo ^ndia^ and Catrin, perhaps no more than the minimal difference in clothing style or footwear,' In addition, each may have kinsmen in both ethnic groups. But ethnic stereotypy is a persistent conditioning force in interpersonal relations. It provides the individual with a structured set of preconceptions that may not change much under the pressure of reality (Thompson 197^sl08).

While Thompson here relates stereotypy to processes of individual in­

teraction across ethnic lines, it is equally functional for non­

interaction. For the Canadian plains, Niels Braroe (I975sl82) observes:

To Indians, strictly Vrtiite spheres of action are mysterious, dark places where vaguely specified but nefarious things go on. ... In Short Grass, the Indians' ignorance of White ways of life makes it possible for them to construct fantasy pictures of White impurity. They can thus rescue a degree of self-worth to the extent that they deny it to Whites; and this is made possible by the absence of conflicting infor­ mation about Whites. Thus ignorance is stabilizing, that is, it averts open conflict.

Categorization, then, may proceed for a variety of purposes, from the assignment of membership rights and duties, to behavioral predictions, to stereotyping of group characteristics. At each level, we can expect corresponding differences in the nature of information processed by the classifier,

V/e may also expect an interplay between the locus of the ob­ server and the information processed in classification, the attributes of ethnic status which the classifier attends to in placing specific individuals into discrete groups or constructing stereotypes. We need, in short, a typology of classifiers to correlate with typologies of attributes and typologies of categorizing motives.

Shibutani and Kwan (1965:^O-'+l) provide an easy but simplistic typology of observers with their distinction between "ethnic category" and "ethnic identity." The former refers to the "way a person or per­ sons defines or describes a collection of other people." It thus includes the labeling procedures by which outsiders categorize ethnic units. Elements of the label may include readily observable traits such as clothing, housing, language use; labels may as well be founded on less apparent markers, perhaps racial or national origin in pheno= typically non-discrete groups. Ethnic identity, by contrast, is the characterization made from within, the group's own definition of self.

But ethnic identity, like ethnic category, may apparently cover the gamut of ethnic status attributes, from pivotal to secondary markers.

A more discriminating typology of observers and observed may be founded on Erving Goffman's (1963s51) concepts of "personal identity" and "social identity." Conceiving identification "in the criminologi­ cal and not the psychological sense" discovering "who" rather than

"what" one is, Goffman is most precise about the nature of personal identity. This comprises the

...positive marks or identity pegs, and the unique combi­ nation of life history items that comes to be attached to the individual with the help of these pegs for his identity (Goffman 1963:57).

Personal identity, in other words, is the collection of biographical information which one individual — the observer — has regarding another person. Some observers — the "unknowing," the utter strangers

— inevitably maintain no personal biography of a given individual.

Such observers recognize or categorize individuals on the basis of

social identity. Unlike the idiosyncrasies of personal identity,

social identity comprises the more structiored realm of role reper­

toires, and the ri^ts and duties pertaining to those roles (Goffman

1965s63-65)o Thus, an observer, an "other," when faced with the task

of recognizing and categorizing a given individual, will focus on that

individual's social identity when the "other" has no personal biog­

raphy on the individual. From the perspective of the individual to be

classified, then, the range of "others" is divided into those who

"know him," or who maintain a personal biography on him, and those who

do not know him, but can recognize him on the basis of social infor­ mation, information indicative of the individual's role repertoire.

However inelegantly, I will term these two sets of observers as

"personal-others" (or "biographical-others"), and "social-others."

Goffman's classification of others provides £in important modi­ fication to Shibutani and Kv/an's typology of in-group and out-group observers. For Goffman's "personal-others" can clearly belong to either the in-group or the out-group, to one ethnic group or another.

Likewise, social-others may belong to one group or another: informa­ tion on a given individual may cross-cut ethnic lines.

Observers, Attributes, and Purposes

To highlight the import of the observer, I must retxirn briefly to Nadel's discussion of the internal structures of roles. Nadel 26

conceives of role (P) as a series of attributes including pivotal ones

(w), sufficiently relevant ones (a,b) and finally, peripheral attri­

butes (I,M,N), admitting of alternatives or options (/). Thus the

internal structure of any role can be symbolized:

P = S£»a,b,...I/M/N (Nadel 1957:51).

Actual roles differ widely in the degree of entailment among attributes,

however: "Not all attributes are equally good ones, either because

they are not sufficiently exclusive to a given role or because they are

not sufficiently firmly integrated ('entailed') in the series" (Nadel

1957530). For example, an ethnic ascription, based on parentage, may

in fact have no sufficiently relevant attributes associated with it,

no attributes that are "sufficiently firmly entailed in the series"

(Nadel 1957:52). Such a role may, however, entail weakly a series of

peripheral attributes, largely optional and variable. The fact that

these peripheral attributes are entailed, if weakly, allows them to be

used as potential, if poor, markers of an individual's ethnic ascrip­

tion. But, by definition, they are not "pivotal;" they do not serve

as governing properties of the role, and hence cannot exclusively, and

with certainty, classify individuals into discrete groups. Thus, when

the allocation of rights and duties of ethnic membership is at stake,

weakly entailed attributes are unreliable.

Now consider a hypothetical problem in classification: "Is

Jose a Yaqui?" Assume, for the moment, that Yaqui identity is ascrip-

tive, based on parentage, but that this pivotal attribute may weakly

entail a series of other attributes: dress, bilingualism, ritual participation. The problem of classification may arise in several contexts. First, Jose approaches the Yaqui governors with a petition to work a plot of tribal land. To allocate this right to Jose, the governors must become, in essence, "personal-others" to Jose, They must elicit biographical information of Jose; they must classify Jose's parents. In a second context, an ethnographer asks his native inter­ preter whether or not Jose is a Yaqui, and hence a potential informant on Yaqui kinship patterns. The interpreter, if a stranger to Jose, may decide that Jose is in fact Yaqui because of his sandals. Alterna­ tively, the interpreter may be Jose's brother, and, with full biograph­ ical knowledge of Jose, respond that Jose is Yaqui because their father is Yaqui, Finally, a Mexican family traveling through the Yaqui Zone beseeches Jose and a group of his kinsmen, tending a canal along the highway, to assist with a flat tire. The travelers are ignored; they quickly classify Jose as belligerent, unfriendly, and hence, Yaqui,

The examples are homely and contrived; the point, though, is as important as it is self-evident. The process of ethnic classifi­ cation is multi-faceted. In Table 1, I summarize the complexities in­ volved in the process of ethnic classification; in Chapter 't, I will utilize these elements for an understanding of Yaqui ethnic categori­ zation.

The Instrumentality of Ethnic Identity

If ethnicity implicates processes of categorization, it also is an instrumental phenomenon: ethnic categories are drawn and main­ tained for a purpose. Some anthropologists appear sufficiently 28

Table 1. Elements in the ethnic classification process.

Purpose of Classification a. stereotypy: group-level moral evaluations b. interpersonal relations: individual-level classifications for purposes in interaction c. categorical group membership: individual-level identifi­ cation for purposes of allocating rights and duties

Relationship of Classifier to Object a, personal-other; of same or different group as object b. social-other; of same or different group

Nature of Role Attributes used as Information in Classification Process a. pivotal or basic b. peripheral or secondary (sufficiently relevant and peripheral)

Degree of Entailment of Role Attributes a. strongly entailed b. weakly entailed

Basis for Categorical Group Membership a. ascription b. achievement or performance satisfied that the instrumentality of ethnic identities lies in the very process of classifying. Braroe, quoted above, reads purpose into the stereotypy process. Barth views classification and consequent structurinr: of interaction as preservers of cultural integrity. Leo

Despres, on the contrary, seeks to treat ethnic identities and ethnic boundaries as virtual epiphenomena of resource competition. It is worth reviewing his central thesis.

V/ith reject to material resources, to the extent that these /ethni_^ status claims confer competitive advantage upon the populations vrho assert them, social boundaries supportive of categorical ethnic identities will persist. Conversely, when such claims confer no particular advantage in this regard, ethnic boundaries weaken and the assertion of ethnic identi­ ties appears to diminish (Despres 1975:199).

In other v;ords, Despres awards primacy to the corporate organization of ethnic groups for political and economic purposes. Dependent upon this organization are two "residual" phenomena: the categorical ethnic identities of population aggregates, and the ethnic ascriptions of specific individuals. Thus, if corporate organization along ethnic lines offers no competitive advantage, the ethnic identities of popu­ lations and individuals becomes deactivated, superfluous.

Gvirrent social reality amply attests to the pervasiveness of political-economic motivations among ethnic groups. Diverse groups, in urban and rursil settings, in developing and developed countries, are employing ethnic symbols in the attempt to overttirn inequities in the distribution of resources (see the essays in Bennett 1975)o The re­ sults have been varied, leading in some cases to increased control of resources and eventual economic improvement, to increased ethnic soli­ darity with little alteration of dominant-subordinate political and economic structiires, and in other cases to ethnocide in contexts of overwhelmingly superior and intractible political power. The diverse outcomes result from many factors, affording ample scope for empirical investigation.

Despres' claim, then, constitutes a useful working hypothesis for the analysis of ethnicity, due both to its grounding in social reality and to its parsimonious ordering of the several dimensions of ethnic phenomena: corporately-organized groups, individual ethnic ascriptions, and the categorical identity of population aggregates.

It is, however, nothing more than a working hypothesis: can ethnicity, and particularly Yaqui ethnicity, be adequately interpreted in a political-economic framework, one which gives primacy to the interplay between organized ethnic groups and the economic and political struc­ tures which encompass them?

Before Despres' position can be juxtaposed to Sonoran Yaqui society, some immediate difficulties with his proposition must be attended to. Despres takes inadequate account of the range of circum­ stances determining the effectiveness of resource competition. Effec­ tiveness lies in part in the group's ability to organize itself and express its demands, that is, in its ability to become a corporate group. Equally important, though, is the nature of the surrounding political and economic structure. Focusing on such "encapsulating political structures," on politically dominant states, F, G, Bailey provides a useful typology for understanding the differential successes of ethnic movements. Encapsulating societies manifest, in Bailey's terms, a "composite interference variable," including the "determination to interfere" as well as the "resources to make inter­

ference possible" (Bailey 1969:152). Thus, apparently dominant states

... might not have the resources to interfere within the en­ capsulated structure, even if they wished to do so; or they might not consider it worth their while because the payoff for successful intervention might exceed the cost of the interven­ tion (Bailey 1969:150).

Several outcomes, differing both in determination and capability for

interference, can be delineated. At one extreme, "encapsulation is

merely nominal, merely, one might say, a matter of geography" (Bailey

1969:1^9). This situation may arise when the dominant structure can­

not, for lack of resources, or for lack of adequate payoffs, chooses

not to intervene in the politics and economics of encapsulated socie­

ties. The second possibility is one of predation, where leaders of the

dominant polity "do not concern themselves with what goes on inside

Structure A /the encapsulated structur^ so long as the people who live under it pay the revenue" (Bailey 1969:150)- This possibility also implies a limitation on the capability of the dominant society to interfere more radically.

A third type is indirect rule, founded upon "an agreement to leave intact the broad structure of A, providing this does not do vio­ lence to certain fundamental principles ... which are embodied in

Structure B /the dominating polit^" (Bailey 1969:151). Such an option,

Bailey argues, may result from a limit on Structure B's determination

to interfere, on a "moral conviction that people are entitled to their own beliefs and should be allowed, as far as possible, to preserve cherished institutions" (Bailey 1969:151). Or it may derive from an assessment of costs and payoffs of intervention: "indirect rule is 32 cheaper than a radical reorganization of the political structure of A.

To reorganize means to create conditions of uncertainty, to risk ex­

plosions and to incur for certain the expenditure of resources involved in re-training people, even when this is possible" (Bailey 1969:151)»

The final possibility, at the extreme from nominal encapsiJ-a-

tion, is integration, a radical change of the dominated society. Of this possibility, Bailey notes:

The basis for such a decision /to force integi'atioi^ is likely to be compounded of many elements: moral repugnance for what goes on in Structure A is certainly one, often phrased in terms of the removal of iniquitous 'feudal* institutions and their replacement by socialist democratic institutions: allied v/ith this goes another kind of moral attitude, that the people of Structxire A should devote their energies to a wider polity than their own parish group. This is in fact a judgment that the costs of incorporating the personnel of Structure A into Structure B will be more than offset by the resources which they put into Structure B. This position is adapted by vir­ tually all the developing nations: they seek, with varying degrees of determination and success, to put an end to caste- ism or communalism or tribalism or regionalism and to make a united nation (Bailey 1969:151; see also Geertz 1973:255-310)»

By thus examining the variable capabilities and determinations of dominant structures to exert themselves over encapsulated groups,

Bailey helps us to understand the differential success experienced by dominated ethnic groups in competition for resources. Ethnic groups may attempt to gain increased control of resources, increased autonomy, yet may fail in the face of opposition from a highly determined and capable state. Alternatively, limitations on the capabilities and de­ termination of the dominant group may set the stage for a successful effort by an encapsulated society to increase its control over re­ sources A fiirther difficulty with Despres* proposition lies in his

narrow definition of "resoiirces" as environmental resources, primarily

factors of production such as land, water, technology. Implicit in

Bailey's discussion of encapsulation, though, is a more expansive no­

tion of resources: human and material items which, when controlled by

a leader, serve to enhance his power. But neither Bailey nor Despres

deals adequately with an additional arena of control and power, the

system of exchanp;e and distribution. Analyzing the genesis and main­

tenance of stratification, Carol Smith focuses on such "differential

access to or control over the means of exchange." Thus

. • o variation in stratification systems is related to types of exchange between producers and non-producers as they affect and are affected by the spatial distribution of the elite and the level of commercialization in the region and beyond. This approach is found to be particularly useful for understanding certain colonial and neocolonial cases of stratification where neither landholdings nor other productive means are alienated from the peasant producers and yet "siirplus value" is clearly extracted from the peasantry (C. Smith 1976:310).

Smith applies this perspective to colonial and contemporary Guatemala,

noting that Indians retain ownership of productive resources — essen­

tially land and labor. Yet, she observes, "while land and independent

Indian labor are the only significant productive resources in the

region, laindless Ladinos are clearly wealthier than landed Indians"

(C. Smith 1975:116).

The Yaqui region of Sonora replicates, in many regards, the

area of Smith's work in northwest Guatemala, A full comparison would

be informative, but is beyond the scope of the present report. I in­

troduce her propositions here for the simple purpose of acknowledging

another factor in the competition for resources: to the extent that 3^

enclaved ethnic groups control the networks of distribution (and they

seldom do), they reduce the capability of dominant states to interfere

locally.

In sum, then, we can increase the comparative utility of Des-

pres' hypothesis by taking explicit account of conditions under which

resource competition by a corporately organized ethnic group is likely

to be successful. Simply put, competition is more likely to be success­

ful under conditions of low determination and/or low capability of the

dominant political group to interfere. Thus, although corporate

organization of an ethnic group is no mean accomplishment, it may

nevertheless lead to insignificant changes in the structure of domina­

tion; it may be ineffectual in reducing the control exerted by a highly

determined and capable state.

Ethnic Boundaries and Resource Competition; Summary

In the preceding sections I have raised some questions about

two dominant approaches to the anthropology of ethnicity: that of

Barth on the categorization process, and that of Despres on the instru­

mentality of ethnic identity and ethnic group organization. To balance

Barth's emphasis on the achievement or performance aspect of cate­

gorization, I have tried to resurrect the importance of ethnic ascrip­

tion. To Despres' focus on instrumentality, I have argued for a closer

examination of the external context. The nature and strength of out­

side interference may determine both the type of organization allowed

to an ethnic enclave and its success or failure in the struggle for resources. 35

These additions and modifications by no means attempt to de­ stroy the basic theoretical designs of Barth or Despres; they do, how­ ever, seek to make the treatment of categorization and instrumentality more amenable to an analysis of Yaqui ethnicity, politics, and resource competition. They seek, in short, to provide the conceptual frame for responding to the questions raised in the previous chapter: how does the Yaqui corporate organization work in the struggle for resources in

Sonora, and what are the ramifications of this polity on other aspects of Yaqui ethnicity?

Fieldwork and the Nature of Information

I proceeded to the field, in early October 1975i with a very tight and naive proposal to study the "ecological consequences of eco­ nomic change in a Yaqui fishing cooperative." Circumstances quickly dissuaded me from that project. Guasimas, to be the locus of my study, turned out to be inhospitable in the real sense of the term: no hous­ ing was immediately available. The fishing season proved rather un­ cooperative as well: it was over, in early December, before I had really established myself, before I had made myself into an unobtrusive and harmless observer of Yaqui society. And the very success of the shrimp cooperative portended disaster for my study. The closed social universe of Guasimas, so neatly coterminous with the fishing coop on paper, exploded when I reached the field. The coop offices turned out to be in Guaymas; the old-time fishermen aind coop officials lived in

Guasimas; the majority of Yaquis were fishing the vastly more produc­ tive Bahia de Lobos, at the opposite end of Yaqui territory; and most of the Lobos fishermen returned, at the close of the season, to the

central river pueblo of Potara. While Yaqui fishermen could not be

isolated geographically, neither could they be isolated occupationally;

many considered themselves equally farmers as fishermen, working the

fields dxrring the off-season, catching shrimp from August to December,

Moreover, Yaquis have come to understand "perfectly, through

the yeairs, the role of the anthropologist. He is one who studies los

costumbres; the customs, the history, ritual, meaning, the "color" of

Yaqui society. They are immensely proud of the success of the coopera­

tive and equally happy to see cement-lined canals brimmed with water

for the fields, but these things are not colorful. They are mundsine, and the visiting anthropologist, who by his very presence validates

the uniqueness of Yaqui culture in Yaqui eyes, should not be burdened with mundane things. Given the choice of going fishing or attending a fiesta, the anthropologist is quite naturally shunted toward the fiesta.

My role as an anthropologist was enhanced by my association with another anthropology student and his wife in the field. His interests were in the symbolism of the pascolas, hosts to Yaqui cere­ monies. He was much more articulate and energetic than myself in ex­ plaining the function of the anthropologist. I thus dutifully attended fiestas, which indeed communicated an immense amount of information about Yaqui society and culture, about Yaqui-Mexican interaction, about the vagaries of individual participation in Yaqui life.

Fortunately, though, I came to the field equipped with one tool that allowed me, progressively, to escape the role of anthro­ pologist. I had a station wagon which, in Yaqui eyes, had an interior 37 of virtually limitless space. Whatever success I had in understanding

Yaqui society is due unquestionably to my service as taxi-driver, not as anthropologist.

The winter and on into the spring of 1976 proved inexplicably harsh, and many of my runs were to Yaqui curanderas ("curers") through­ out the region, to clinics and herbalists in Estacion Vicam, Guaymas, and ObregcSh. Invariably, the car v/ould fill with relatives of the patient, ostensibly there for assistance, but not averse to doing their weekly shopping at the same time. These trips became invaluable for my observations of Yaqui and Mexican interaction. At the same time, they taxed my academic aillegiance to "cultural relativity." Native curanderas were, at best, largely ineffectual outside the realm of psychosomatic disease. Some of them realized this immediately, and referred their patients to proper medical facilities in Obregon and

Guaymas, staffed by more-or-less bona fide doctors. At worst, though, some curanderas explicitly denounced such facilities and retained tight control over their patients through the terminal stages of illness.

Coincident with these extended medical struggles of several of my friends and neighbors vjas a period of intense political activity in and around the Yaqui Zone. In the remaining months of the Echeverria administration, with prospects of a less agrarian-oriented regime under incoming President Lopez Portillo, landless Mexican peasants

(campesinos) took over large irrigated tracts adjacent to Yaqui terri­ tory. Yaquis themselves had been petitioning for a new survey of their southern boundary, to regain land lost to Mexican encroachment through­ out the century. The demands of Yaquis, campesinos, and the neo-hacendados of Obregon occasioned meetings, heated discussions, full-scale rallies, and active military involvement in the Yaqui re­

gion. A succession of notables arrived in Obregon: the governor of

Sonora, peasant and labor leaders, numerous commissions from Mexico

City. I was frequently asked to drive Yaqui leaders to these gather­ ings, leaders who presumably found it more prestigious to show up in a sputtering, dusty car than in their infinitely more impressive pick-ups.

And, on more than one occasion, I very nearly provided the golden opportunity for an enterprising anthropologist to study acephelization: what happens to a Yaqui pueblo when all their officials are run into a ditch by an oncoming Mexican bus. Fortunately I managed to avoid the front pages of jAlarmal, and collected information on the politics of land and water in the Yaqui valley.

More mundane, though equally rewarding, were the variety of excursions with "average" Yaquis: to the Banco Rural offices in

Estacion Vicam, to air complaints about water allocations or credit arrangements; to pick up sacks of oranges in Obregon or Guaymas for resale in the house-front stands dotting the barrios of Potam; to isolated rancherias with a family's weekly supply of store-bought staples. Of rather less ethnographic merit were the hunting trips into the tangled desert around Potam, where my landlord, a deadly shot with his borrowed .22 and contraband ammunition, would control the rabbit population from the front seat of the car.

Early in my fieldwork, then, I had rejected the fishing coop project as being too expensive and logisticailly unfeasible, requiring too much travel time to Lobos, to Guasimas, to Guaymas. Taking up 39

residence with a Yaqui family in Potam, I ironically found myself

driving all over the lower Yaqui valley. These trips began to focus

my research on economic, political, and social interaction between

Yaqui and Mexican, As nothing more than a taxi driver, I was willingly,

if unwittingly, forced into a regional perspective. And I was pre­

vented from conducting any systematic siirvey research, not knowing from

one day to the next whether I could set up an appointment or keep a re-appointment. With only a faltering fluency in Spanish, and an

ability to recognize little more than the topic and mood of discus­

sions in Yaqui, I was forced to be an intense listener, not an incisive

questioner. The strategy had its drawbacks: Yaquis, particularly men,

can be remarkably taciturn, except in those brief transitory moments in tequila sessions, between uninhibitedness and incomprehensibility.

Nevertheless, there is virtue in necessity. As taciturn as

they are, Yaquis can on occasion be equally evasive and contradictory in the face of a direct inquiry. They likewise have a quite admirable, if sometimes frustrating, capacity for claiming ignorance on particular matters. Partly this stems from a disinclination to discuss sensitive matters, partly from their deference to authority. So well attuned to what the anthropologist is, they send you after the "rules," refer you to the "well-informed informant." In the field, then, I tried to listen and observe, more than ask and participate. In short, I tried to gain access to the every-day action, the mundane topics of economics, ethnic interaction, unpredictable and unprescribed behaviors.

Again, at the risk of seeing too much virtue in too much neces­ sity, this haphazard approach to ethnography, particularly the ho

ethnography of ethnicity, is an unsystematic — and not entirely

successful — attempt to reduce the distortions of participant obser­

vation. In his insightful essay on studying the Lue of Thailand,

Michael Moerman admits to the inherent danger of field work.

It is clear that when an ethnographer asks natives questions which they would not ask each other, he is calling attention to issues which are normally inexplicit and sometimes non­ existent. Insofar as the significance of an action depends upon the situation in which it occurs, then, to the extent that answering an ethnographer's question is an unusual situ­ ation for natives, one cannot reason from a native's answer to his normal categories and ascriptions. But the importance of the situation, and particularly of the other persons present in it, goes beyond this to distort the data of even the silent ethnographer. By his very presence as someone interested in culture or cultiires, the social scientist es­ tablishes the primary relevance to him of ethnic (or kin­ ship, or class, or political) categorization schemes, as ways of reporting, recording and analyzing human occurrences. He thus pressures those who would talk to him to pay primary attention to those categorizations even when they would not otherwise do so (Moerman 1968:165 /for expressions of simi­ lar concerns, see Barth 1975^225-226; Reichel-Dolmatoff 1971: XX, 25^).

To minimize, certainly not to avoid, these distortions, I have

treated with scepticism the volume of curt answers to direct questions

in my field notes. I have given more weight to the occasional ram-

blings, unsolicited or only partly stimulated by my inquiries. And I

have paid particular attention to the situation under which such ram-

blings were occasioned: the biographies of the various speakers and

audiences, the contextusil setting of discussions, and my own prior

interactions with particular individuals. This last aspect was espe­ cially crucial for sorting out "back-s'tage" and "front-stage" informa­

tion (Goffman 1959; Berreman 1962). Frequently, Yaquis would offer

me a standardized (and not particularly trenchsint) diatribe against yoris and against Mexican oppression. Regularly, such unsolicited

speeches would be buttressed by a listing of Yaqui ethnic traits —

peripheral ones rather than pivotal. I soon came to see a pattern to

such pronouncements. They were given to me by strangers; or, more

properly, they were tailored to my status as stranger. These were

front-stage performances, put on for me by persons who knew only of my

presence in the field, and of my general interest in Yaqui customs.

They were giving me information they thought I should have and should present to the outside world.

Yet the transition to back-stage was surprisingly easy in many of the little dramas of Yaqui life, demanding minimal deceit or cajol­ ing on my part. Such transitions took place as my friendships evolved, which themselves grew as the demand for my services increased. As I came to stand in personal-other relations with various individuals, I would be pulled into their social netv;orks, as something of a harmless appendage. Such networks often were involved in extensive economic and social interactions, by no means always hostile, with Mexicans,

In these back-regions, where indeed the "suppressed facts make an appearance" (Goffman 1959:112), few Yaquis seemed particularly embar­ rassed to be caught in the lie.

By the time of my departure from the field in May 1976, I found myself relying on the information of roughly two dozen people, pri­ marily Yaquis of Potam, Rahum, Vicam, Lobos, and Gu^simas, and some

Mexicans from Potam and Estacion Vicam, By no means a random sample, neither were these people simply a network of kin, compadres, and friends extending out from my landlord and his family. Often, the circle of acquaintances and friends enlarged through "fictive friend­

ship:" an individual would approach my landlord or his wife and,

ignoring or forgetting past squabbles, request the use of my car. As

finable to say "no" as I was, my landlord would pass the demand on to

me. The remainder of my ties were acquired by the studied process of

"hanging around," at fiestas, at pueblo baseball games, near the tra­

ditional rendevous of wandering groups of tequila-drinkers and kids,

at soft-drink stands and stores. Yaquis and yoris alike took little

offense at my desire to simply hang around. Indeed, the Yaquis got

something out of the experience: a new model for their Easter chapa- yekam masks, the pink-faced, white-haired, spectacled anthropologist» CHAPTER 3

SOCIETY AND HISTORY IN THE YAQUI VALLEY

The District of Guaymas is the richest in agricultural re­ sources; containing as it does the great valley of the Yaqui river, comprising nearly one million acres of highly productive lands, on which may be grown readily cotton, sugar cane, cof­ fee, oranges, limes, lemons, and all tropical fruits, tobacco, wheat, corn, beans, tomatoes, peas, in fact almost any product of the torrid and temperate zone, A large irrigation company has just completed a great canal forty miles long which car­ ries water sufficient to irrigate six hundred thousand acres of land. The company is arranging to colonize these lands with colonists from Exirope. They are located on the south side of the river. On the north side private land owners have smaller irrigation works which cover tracts of land sufficiently large to assure the dignity of principalities were they in Europe. Such is the tract in the vicinity of Potam, which Messrs. Charles and Frank Cranz are preparing to plant to cotton. On both sides of the river are the "pueblo" lands of the Yaquis, set apart for their use and accepted by these Indians in the recent treaty of peace signed at Ortiz in May, l897o The lands comprise some forty thousand acres than which no more fertile can be found anywhere in the world. With their well known industry the Yaquis will soon bring all that great area to a high state of productiveness, and their frugality will make the seven "pueblos" into which they are divided, the richest communities of the kind in the world (j. R. Southworth 1897).

John Southworth's optimism in 1897 was firmly grounded on a vast stretch of rich alluvial soil, an impressive river running incon­ gruously through the Sonoran desert and a development-oriented Por- firian elite whose local representatives were in tight control of state politics. The Yaqui delta had incontestable potential at the end of the 19th century and would later become the locus of Mexico's agricul­ tural revolution. But Southworth's enthusiasm was premature. He

^3 perceived the themes that would dominate the valley in the 20th cen-

txiry: of economic expansion and ethnic survival, of the unequal de­

velopment of the north side of the river and the south — known locally

as the mar gen derecho and marten izquierda, the right aind left banks,

and more recently as the Zona Indigena of Yaqui farmers and the Veille

del Yaqui of Mexican growers and their rural proletariat. Southworth

simply failed to foresee how these themes would be played out.

Had he written Sonora Ilustrado a few years later, he might

have been more prescient. By 1899» Yaquis were again fighting for

their lands along the river. The Peace of Ortiz was simply an inter­ lude in a long struggle, and the conflict has yet to be resolved,

* Spicer has reconstructed and analyzed the sweep of Yaqui his­

tory, under the Jesuit mission system of colonial New Spain and under

the garrisons and haciendas of independent Mexico (Spicer I96I3 197^).

Syncretic Yaqui ritual no doubt crystalized v/ith Jesuit guidance in

Nev/ Spain and has persisted in its essential form into the 20th cen­

tury. Yaqui polity and economy were likewise structured in the mission

communities but were not fully tested until Independence. The history of Sonora under Mexican rule is one of caudillos, of technocrats, and of foreign investors, all grappling with the problems of economic

modernization and political stability. Yaquis were prime actors in

these struggles as well, and the present Yaqui organization must be understood in this historical context.

River Towns and the Five Ya'uram

The fighting which preceded the Peace of Ortiz, and which quickly resumed after the treaty, was for most Yaquis directed toward a single purpose: to preserve the physical and organizational bases of

the Ocho Pueblos, the eight Indian toms along the lower river. Physi­

cally and socially, these pueblos took shape as Jesuit mission communi­

ties, suffered recurrent assaults in the 19th century and early 20th by

Mexican officials and North American colonists, and ultimately, under

presidential decrees of Lazaro C^denas in 1937 and 19^+0» achieved a

degree of territorial and organizational integrity. Several of the

original townsites were years ago lost to Mexican settlers: Yaqui

refugees from Cocorit now live in nearby Torocoba and Loma de

Gaumuchil, and the Yaqui officials of the former pueblo of Bacum now

conduct affairs from Bataconsica. The remaining six Yaqui towns are

situated in the vicinity of the original missions. Torim sits amid

wheat fields close to the now-dry bed of the Yaqui river. Vicam pueblo,

further down the river, remains a political center but its resident

population is vastly overshadowed by the Mexican commercial and mili­

tary outpost of Estacion Vicam, along the highway eind railroad between

Guaymas and Ciudad Obregon. Potam is nov/ the largest center of Yaqui

population; educated guesses by local residents place its population

between 5iOOO and 9,000 persons, Indian and Mexican. Rahum, Huirivis,

and Belem (relocated to Pitahaya) have fully functioning civil and re­ ligious systems, but struggle to survive at the lower reaches of the

canal network. Two substantial villages of Yaqui fishermen have de­

veloped at opposite ends of the Yaqui coastline; Guasimas near the north boundary, and the seasonal shrimp camp of Lobos at the south.

And, in the formidable Sierra de Bacatetes, numerous ranchos and communities of Yaquis are producing beef, cheese, and liquor for

regional consumption (Fig. 1),

All villages are now electrified — a point of pride to Mexican

development officials but something of a humorless joke to local resi­

dents who find themselves forced to pay for poles, wire, and the

circuitry needed to run current off the main pueblo avenues. The

pueblos have government clinics, too, available to residents who qual­

ify for Mexico's universal health care. And Potam, as the largest

indigenous settlement, has its own Mexicsin police commissioner. He records births and deaths and presides over the parades of Independence

Day.

The Mexican array, once garrisoned in the major Yaqui towns, is

now consolidated at Estacion Vicam, along with branch offices of the

government bureaucracies. The Vicam army now serves mainly as a check

against smuggling, and its exercise yard has taken on the look of a

motley air museum of confiscated planes. Lackadaisical infantry

patrols along Federal Highway 15 no longer arouse the hatred of once-

belligerent Yaquis. Local residents were shocked at the virulence of

these troops in 1975» when campesinos invaded the wheat lands around

San Ignacio, Rio Muerto.

Within the eight Yaqui pueblos, a complex and intertwined

political and religious orgsuiization carries out the affairs, civil and ceremonial, of the tribe. Five "realms of authority" or ya'uram

predominate: the civil government, the military society, the church, fiesteros, and the kohtumbre ya'ura, "protectors of the traditions"

(Spicer 195^!89). ^7

r- J

Empolme

Aivoro ObreQon Dom (Oviochi) (1947-1952)

& bEsporanzo Potom VIcom IC.Obregon

"M' Mocuzon Dom (1952-1955) 6u/f of ^Alamos California "'>Mc?f

o l^n Boundary of YoquI irlbol lonOs. .'9 Cultivated tribal lands. ' El Fuerte Boundary of Mexican irrigation districts. Miguel 50 Hidalgo I I Dom Kilometers (1952-1956)

MEXICO

Figure 1. The coast of northv/est Mexico, 1975« The civil government of each town consists of a set of gover­

nors and their assistants, and an informal body of elders. Through

their spokesmen, the pueblo major, elders transmit opinions and com­

plaints of residents to the governors. In addition to the "first

governor" and his assistants (usually four) there are several other

civil positions of importance. A secretario acts as scribe, drawing

up official documents for signature by the first governor. With the

governor, -pueblo mayor, and secretario, two other signatures appear on

important documents: the capitan aind the comandante. The capitan

represents the military society and thereby acknowledges their consent

to actions taken by the governor. The comandante is said to have

jurisdiction over people and resources outside the pueblo proper, but

within the traditionally recognized territories of each town.

These five signatories conduct the daily civil affairs of the

town. Important town or tribal matters receive an airing at open Sun­

day meetings in front of the comunila or guardia, a structure housing

the civil offices. V/hen such meetings are called, any number of the

pueblo is free to speak, and decisions are made once the discussion

moves toward consensus.

Each pueblo is theoretically autonomous, and no single tribal

"chief" is acknowledged by Yaquis. However, an incipient tribal hier­ archy is developing. Informants speak of Vicam Pueblo as primara cabecera, "head pueblo," and of Potam as segunda cabecera, "second."

The governors of Vicam Pueblo are, indeed, frequently asked for advice and consent by governors of other pueblos, and important matters i+9

concerning the entire tribe are brought before a genereil assembly in

Vicam Pueblo, with the governor of that town presidingo

The military society, in addition to participating in civil

decisions through the office of its capitan, plays a major ritual role

in government. Its members, once responsible for mobilizing an effec­

tive Yaqui fighting organization, now function primarily as guardians

of the civil authorities (Spicer 195^:70). They open and close meet­

ings v;ith a ritual maneuvering of flags and drums; they stand watch

over the comunila housing the paraphernalia of civil authority; and

they perform the Coyote Dance, formerly a victory dance, but now car­ ried out primarily at ceremonies honoring deceased members of the mili­

tary society.

More elaborate than the military society, the Yaqui church

organization is headed by varying members of maestros, knowledgeable

in Catholic liturgy. Maestros conduct all important religious ob­ servances in Yaqui territory. They are invariably accompanied by

female cantoras who assist in the singing of hymns. The church organi­ zation also includes persons who tend the images and look after the church. Finally, the matachines, a dance group of extreme ceremonial importance, fall under the auspices of the maestros.

The remaining two ya'uram, the fiesteros and kohtumbre, are responsible for the organization and operation of importeint calendrical ceremonies. Fiesteros conduct the elaborate fiesta held yearly in honor of the patron of the pueblo's church. In Potam, the Tinirain fiesta, Day of the Trinity, in late May or early June, occasions a ritual reenactment of the battle between Christians and Moors. Large amounts of food are collected, consumed, aind the surplus distributed

to local residents. Following the three-day event, fiesteros select

replacements to begin preparations for the next year.

The kohtumbre ya'ura have similar rer .onsibilities of organi­

zation and conduct for the complex set of ceremonies during Lent and

Holy V/eek. Two societies compose the kohtumbre; the Kabayum

("caballeros," Horsemen) and the Fariseos (Judases, Pharisees). In

the involved acting out the Passion during Lent, Fariseos are "bad

soldiers" lead by Pilate, pursuing Christ, The Kabayxim, in turn, are

the "good soldiers," supporters and protectors of Christ.

A final group of ritual specialists are autonomous from the

five ya'uram, but play crucial and highly visible roles in most Yaqui

fiestas. The pascola dancers, "old men of the fiesta," (Spicer 195^!

75), with their associated musicians and deer dancer, operate as cere­

monial hosts. By joking, dancing, and telling stories, they draw

crowds, entertain, and heighten interest in religious observances.

The Corporate Yaqui Polity

Corporate polities are, as Abner Cohen and Leo Despres suggest,

administratively efficient and, more often than not, politically suc­

cessful. But the corporate organization of ethnic enclaves may also

be difficult to attain and may vary in strength as a reflex to the

dominant politics of nation and region. I want to look first at the nature of the present Yaqui civil government in analytical terms,

borrowed from Despres (1975). Then, for the balance of this chapter,

I will sketch the larger economic setting for Yaqui polity and society: the Yaqui delta as it came under the control of Mexican and North Ameri­

can settlers.

Corporate political organizations are a complex of traits.

Despres notes four: a common estate, a unitary set of external rela­

tions, a relatively exclusive body of common affairs, and a set of

governmental procedures adequate to administer- these affairs (Despres

1975tl96). Drawing selectively from Max Weber, we can add a fifth:

the extent to which the corporate group is either "autocephalous" or

"heterocephalous."

Autocephaly means that the chief and his staff act by the authority of the autonomous order of the corporate group itself, not, as in the case of heterocephaly, that they are under the authority of outsiders (V/eber 19'<-75l^8)o

More so than Despres' flexible criteria for the presence or absence of corporate groups, this distinction allows a comparison of Yaqui govern­ ment at different points in time. Since the Independence of Mexico,

and most likely well before that time, Yaqui organization has been cor­

porate. Since Independence, though, it has undergone cycles of

"autocephaly" and "heterocephaly," and it is in 'these cycles that the

peculiarities of the Yaqui corporate polity are to be found.

Common Estate. Fortes (1969:293) has defined the characteris­

tics of an estate as "a body of rights and duties related to property

that is held by the corporation and transmitted by succession." With

the Yaqui, such aji estate exists at present on two levels. First, within each pueblo, land is held in common and distributed through the offices of the pueblo governor. In theory and frequently in fact, a

Yaqui must petition the town officials for the right to settle a homesite and the right to plant farmland and utilize the v;ild resources of the monte (desert) and coast for purposes beyond family subsistence.

The authority of pueblo officials over the land is in turn validated by

Mexican officials. Irrigation agencies have a mandate to decide on the feasibility of watering and farming sections of pueblo land, but Yaquis desiring to farm such land must obtain the consent of theii' ovm tovm officials.

At a tribal level as well, a common estate has existed legally since the presidential decrees of the late 1930s, which defined the territorial boundaries of the Yaqui Zona Indigena. Within this reserve,

Mexican entrepreneurs can reside and work only at the suffrance of tribal officials, and the wild resources of the Zona can be exploited by outsiders only with the permission of pueblo officers.

Unitary External Relations. Tribal policies toward the outside

— toward the current array of development officials and the historical succession of claimants to Yaqui land and labor — have been complex.

And such policies have seldom been strictly unitary. In fact, through the 1970s, full-scale factions existed in most of the river pueblos.

One group, engagingly dubbing themselves the comunistas after its seat of power, the pueblo comunila or guardia, includes the current holders of Yaqui government positions and their supporters. Their opposition revolves around the backers of an aborted attempt in the early 1970s to oust the Potam governors. Ideologically, the groups differ over the amount of external aid needed and desired to develop the tribe's re­ sources. The opposition, by and large, seeks a full-scale development of afTO-industry in the Yaqui Zone: local plants to mill v;heat and

•nrocess the oil-seed, cartamo, as well as Yaqui-controlled export

facilities and direct mEirketing connections to foreign buyers. Comuni-

stas fear the influx of Mexican technicians and entrepreneurs that such

economic expansion would bring to the Zone. They seek a more limited

involvement in export agriculture: a continuation of the current sys­

tem of capitalization and distribution of farm products, coupled with

demands for increased acreage under Yaqui control.

In 1975 and 1976, the two factions contested bitterly over the

offices of several pueblos. But the strength of the dispute belied some important commonalities of interest. Opponents fully supported

the pueblo governors in their political struggle to regain tribal ter­ ritory lost to Mexican colonists. In turn the comunistas were entirely cognizant of the need to continue heavy reliance on outside financial aid and technical assistance -- if such dependence could be maintained on terms favorable to the pueblos.

The factional struggles of the 1970s are real, but by no means new to the Yaquis. Erasmus has reviewed the conflicts which arose in the late 19^0s while the Zone was under the jurisdiction of the Mexican military. General Guerrero, chief of the garrison,

...endeavored to undermine the authority of the Yaqui governors by substituting puppet governors of his o^m in each pueblo, a procedure he initiated about 19'<-8. His purpose was to bring all Yaqui land revenues under his direct control .... By establishing his own set of governors, capitanes, and comandantes in each pueblo, Guerrero personally controlled and tapped this income. As a consequence, two factions grew up among the Yaquis, the Yaquis tradicionales (traditional Yaquis) and the Yaquis militarizados (Yaquiscollaborating with the local army authorities).In 1958 a plebiscite was held by the federal government to determine which set of Yaqui 5't

leaders would be officieilly recognized in each pueblo. The traditionalists won in five pueblos and the collaborators in three. However, in the annuail elections for 1959 the tradi­ tionalists returned to power in all of the eight pueblos (Erasmus 196?;26).

The factional dispute of the 1970s was equally intense, but it arose less from externsil interference than from internal differences of opinion. The contestants in the 1970s fought narrowly over the question of means of economic development, not over the ends. Both groups professed allegiance to an ideal of tribal autonomy — of the integrity of Yaqui lands and Yaqui costumbres — of their culture. The opposition leaders sought to preserve this through full economic de­ velopment; the incumbent governors sought it through limited adjustment to the existing situation of economic dependence.

An Exclusive Body of Common Affairs. Pueblo governors and their assistants retain a Jiumber of areas over which they alone have decision-making power. They have the authority to sillocate land within the pueblos, to decide on the membership status of individuals in the tribe, to permit and tax the exploitation of wild resources by out­ siders, to appoint office-holders, and to negotiate, as official repre­ sentatives for the tribe, with Mexican governmental agencies. And the pueblo governors, with the counsel of ceremonial leaders, are the final arbitrators in civil disputes among Yaquis within tribal territory.

In this preserve of exclusive affairs, Yaqui officials are currently "autocephelous." As V/eber suggests, autocephelous officieils obtain legitimacy from within, by recognition of the members of the corporate group. There have been periodic challenges to this legiti­ macy: it was questioned in 1976, when the incumbent governors. involved at the time in tense negotiations with Mexican officials, re­

fused to give up office. But this challenge was easily deflected.

The officials stepped down as the immediacy of the outside negotiations

slackened. Several months earlier, the governors were also challenged

by disgruntled opponents demanding general pueblo elections. The

governors sought to retain the traditional method of selection by cere­

monial elders and active office-holders. Tribal autonomy in this case

was upheld from the outside: by the commander of the Mexican army in

Vicam. Both sets of Yaqui contenders took their cases to him, and, in

a reasoned argument devoid of the opportunism of previous commanders

in the Zone, he ruled that he had no authority to judge such a dispute.

Urging cooperation and understanding in both factions, he returned the

issue directly to the tribe.

Adequate Administrative Procedures. Logistically, the pueblo and tribal governments have proven adequate to conduct their affairs.

Regular and open meetings of the village officials — civil and cere­

monial — are held at the guardias on Sundays. Complaints can be aired, and v;hen the case warrants, village elders and officials will attempt to settle the issues by consensus. On matters affecting the

entire tribe, extraordinary meetings of all Yaqui officials are con­

vened in Vicam pueblo. At such gatherings delegations are selected to carry the Yaqui demands to the state offices in Hermosillo, to federal representatives at agency offices in Estacion Vicam and Ciudad

Obregon, and directly to the presidential offices and ministries of

Mexico City, For the last 100 years, and indeed for the centuries of con­ tact preceding, Yaquis have struggled to preserve and strengthen this corporate polity. The history of this fight is now well known (Spicer

1961, 197^): at times, the tribe has lost its common lands, has been fractured into competing interests, and has been deprived of its power and authority to conduct its own affairs. During other times, under other circumstances, the corporate polity has waxed strong. This com­ plex history is beyond the scope of the present report. Of more immedi­ ate need is to examine the development of southern Sonora's export economy: the fate of the contemporary Yaqui polity is rooted directly in this evolution.

Economic Expansion in the Yaqui Valley

V/hen Southworth observed and wrote about Sonora in the final years of the 19th century, the structures to turn the Yaqui Valley into a major region of export agriculture had already been mapped. A rail­ road reached down from Nogales to Guaymas in I883, providing roundabout connections to Mexico City through stations in Arizona and Texas. It would not be until 1927 that a direct linkage to central Mexico — through the treacherous mountains of Nayarit — was completed. Canal networks laced the plats of surveyors and land concessionaires in the

Valley; construction would av;ait the financing of North American entre­ preneurs after the turn of the century. An adequate water supply to flood the canals would come much later.

By the end of the 19th century, too, a variety of crops had been tested in the Valley and found productive — though not the diversity claimed by Southworth at the time. The full potential of the alluvial soils would not be unlocked until the very expensive products of recent reseeirch were applied. And, by 1900, farm plots had been laid out for speculation, with provisions that 259^ of the colonists be

North American. But settlers who would produce for the market were reluctant to come. Much of the land in the Valley remained, in 1900, in the hands of land companies and cattle-ranching hacendados. Full colonization of the river awaited a more stable peace with the Yaquis.

All these factors were integral to the rise of export agricul­ ture in southern Sonora, and it is worth tracing some of them in more detail. They begin to explain how Yaqui society and economy came to be what they are at the present time.

Railroads, Land Speculation, and Revolt

In the 19th cent\ary, long before the development of national highways and motorized transport, railroads were the key to export economies. They reduced the costs of transport considerably, opened isolated rural areas to distant markets, and made the ownership of land more lucrative than ever before (Coatsworth 197^5^9)• And in

Mexico, racked by costly wars of regional separitism and foreign in­ vasion in the decades following Independence, railroads afforded an entree to international investment. Even after the Mexican Revolution of the 20th century, the rewards to such investment were baldly acknowledged in U.S. government reports.

The V/est Coast of Mexico was the scene of the last great rail­ road construction undertaking by the line of American trans­ continental railway builders, the extension of the Southern 58

Pacific Railroad from Guaymas to Tepic, down the West Coast, being due to the vision of men like Epes Randolph, who, with others, interested the late E. H. Harriraan in the construction of this line and the development of this new empire, v/hich combines so many potential opportunities for American enter­ prise and capital. Revolution in Mexico stopped construction through to Guadalajara, but the V/est Coast was given its first adequate transportation, and stagnant communities received their first stimulus of modern commerce and development by contact v;ith the rest of the territory and with the outer world (Bell and MacKenzie 1923:^5)•

In a more recent assessment of the social impact of the Mexican rails, John Coatsworth is less positive,

A simultaneous process of integration and marginalization occurred, with some regions adjusting to new opportunities while others declined into more or less permanent backwaters. In either case, transport innovation was the cause of impor­ tant shifts in crop structure, estate management, labor arrangements, land tenure patterns and rural v;elfare. Rural populations shared few of the benefits of this modernization and frequently suffered as a result. Often the only benefit the railroad brought was increased mobility, the opportunity to escape the railroad's effects on rural social life (Coatsworth 197^:^+9) •

Beginning with the first Sonoran railroad concession in 1875» the Yaqui

Valley witnessed the full impact of these processes.

In 1877, after the initial concession was revoked for failure to begin construction immediately, a new award was made to the Atchison,

Topeka and Santa Fe Company for a line connecting Guaymas to Nogales.

The company worked rapidly after I880, and the Sonora Railway was finished to the port in I883. An additional concession had already been av/arded to the North American, Robert Symon, to extend the rails to the Rio Yaqui. It was Symon's intent, according to Mexican ministry reports, to open up the "immense coal lands" in the vicinity of the river. His surveyors encountered logistical problems, and Symon re­ quested an extension. As the official reports summarize, however. 59

"new difficulties were presented by the incursions of barbarous Indians into the state of Sonora, and by the state of insxirrection of the in­ habitants of the Rio Yaqui" (quoted in Coatsworth 197^:62). Symon never built his railroad; it was not until 1907 that a connection with

Navojoa across the Yaqui River was completed (Bell and MacKenzie 1923!

^+8). Mazatlan was reached by 1909» and Tepic in the Sierras of Nayarit by 1912 (Bell and MacKenzie 1923:^8), The most difficult stretch — the 100 miles between Tepic and La Quemada near Guadelajara — was not finished until 1927» finally completing the West Coast route from

Nogales to Mexico City.

Archetypal to a pattern throughout early Porfirian Mexico, the continuing Yaqui resistance under the Indian leader, Cajeme, corre­ sponded closely to the activities of the railroad concessionaires

(Coatsworth 197^:^9)• But encroachment onto Yaqui lands, and conse­ quent Yaqui resistance, were not inaugurated by the railroad surveys of the 1870s. At intervals throughout the 19th century, Yaquis took up arms to preserve their territory. At times, they battled indiscrimi- nantly against the haciendas, mines, and ranchos ringing the Yaqui valley. On other occasions, they joined up with the armies of state caudillos, with the goal of exchanging military aid for the recognition of territorial integrity. By mid-century the policy had been rela­ tively successful: Escudero (18^95100) reports about 20 familias blancos, non-Yaqui families, living in the eight pueblos. With mount­ ing intensity, though, Sonoran militias and colonists assaulted the valley. In I867 a force of 5OO men was established at Medano, where the Yaqui river flows into the Gulf, to patrol the Yaqui and Mayo valleys. A year later, the Yaqui force at Cocorit was defeated and

the survivors murdered in the church of Bacum. Yaqui resistance was

broken for a decade (Acuna 197^+; Stagg 197®; Spicer 1961, 197^).

In 1875, Jose Maria Leyva, knovm as Cajeme, precipitated a

Yaqui and I-'ayo uprising against the haciendas and ranchos in southern

Sonora. Aided by a civil war over the right to occupy the state gover­

nor's office and by continuous Apache depredations in northern Sonora,

Cajeme prolonged his leadership for more than a decade. In the spring

of 1886, his Indian forces were finally routed by the Kexican general,

Marcos Carillo, at two Yaqui strongholds — Affil along the river and,

two months later, at Buatachive in the sierras. Cajeme himself escaped

to the Mayo region, to be captured a year later and executed on the

streets of Cocorit.

The railroad concessions of the 1870s may have been little more

than irritants contributing to this renewal of Yaqui resistance; rails

would not bridge the Rio Yaqui for years. But the repercussions of

those av/ards were felt quickly throughout the state. "Vacant public lands," the terrenos baldios, were claimed at a rapid rate. In 1875»

claim was laid to only 2,000 hectares^ in Sonora. As the rail lines

took shape, these claims rose sharply (Table 2)«

The fate of "Baldio 8," one such grant in the Yaqui region —

in the foothills north of Bacum — is instructive. The land was first

deeded to Messrs. Quaglia and Teruel by the Secretary of Public V/orks

(Fomento) in I885 and to the commercial house of Luis Huller and Com­ pany in 1886. These two tracts were consolidated to a unit of A-3,000

^One hectare = 2.^7 acres. 61

Table 2. Claims to terrenos baldios in Sonora.

Year Hectares Claimed

1875 2,126 1876 29,255 1877 30,639 1878 ^2,973 1879 28,507 1880 99,377 1886 245,782 1888 2i+'+,797

Source: Coatsworth 197^568. hectares, and t-.;rried over to the Compahia Internacional Mexicana later in 1886. That company was also buying up lands in Lower California and the Isthmus of Tehuantepec. In I889, the Mexican Land and Coloni­ zation Company of Connecticut took over the business of the Compania

Internacional and thereby acquired Baldio 8. Again in 1902 the land, still undeveloped, changed hands. Some 35*200 hectares of the baldio were transferred to the Yaqui River Land and Development Company in

London. Over half the shares of stock in this company were ovmed by the Compania Constructora Richairdson, so Baldio 8 was added to Richard­ son's massive acauisitions in the valley (Compania Constructora

Richardson 190^-1927).

The Richardson Construction Company was but one of the land operations speculating in Sonoran properties, and its predominance in the Yaqui Valley would not come until late in the rule of Porfirio Diaz.

Vi'ith the defeat of Cajeme in I886, though, the stage had been set for foreign occupation of the Yaqui River,

Canals and Colonists in the Xalle^_Nue^ Speculation in Sonoran lands continued as the rails were laid through Guaymas and on down the coast. Yaquis in the river pueblos faced more immediate problems after Cajeme's execution. Two delega­ tions came to the valley in I887. One, under the direction of Lorenzo

Torres, had instructions to organize the defeated Yaquis into villages v;ith town councils. Torres also received a mandate from the state government to "protect the rights and property of the tribes against the encroachments of the Mexicans and to favor them in any dispute arising betv/een the two antagonists" (Beene 1972:139)• A second com­

mission was chartered to survey and divide the river lands among the

Indians. Each of the pueblos organised by Torres would receive a block

of land, 7i500 hectares in area, to be parcelled into 35-hectare lots

for each family head. Agostadero, pasture land, was to be reserved for

each pueblo as well. The remaining lands, unclaimed by Yaqui farmers,

would be opened to colonization by non-Indians (Beene 1972:139-1^+0;

Dabdoub 196'+: 255-256).

V.'ar-vreary but intensely suspicious of the government plans,

Yaquis for the most part refused to accept the offered parcels,

Lorenzo Torres quickly became proprietor of more than 15,000 hectares

of river land, and much more went into the hands of commission members

and Mexican colonists (Dabdoub 196^:253-25^)- Several of these new

owners began to run irrigation canals off the lower river to their

farms (Dabdoub 196^: 25^1—255)•

The remainder of the Yaqui delta was given to Carlos Conant of

Guaymas in I89O. With the financial backing of Walter S. Logan, New

York attorney who would later fund William Greene's copper operations

in Cananea near the Arizona border (Sonnichsen 1976), Conant estab­

lished the Sonora-Sinaloa Irrigation Company of Nev/ Jersey. For the

next ten years, Conant and his engineers surveyed the lands south of

the river, blocked out lots of ^fOO hectares, constructed access roads,

and built the first 26 miles of canal from the diversion dam at Los

Hornos, up the Rio Yaqui.

By the turn of the centxxry, Conant and his financiers spent

between S600,000 and $900,000 on the project that would open 400,000 hectares of the valley to irrigated farming (Dabdoub 196^:259-293;

Hu-Dehart 197^:76). By 1901, however, only 800 hectares had been sold

to colonists, and the Sonora-Sinaloa Irrigation Company went into re­

ceivership (CompaSxa Constructora Richardson 1904-1927). Conant's

bankruptcy can be attributed to renewed Yaqui activity through the

1890s. The droves of settlers expected by Conant and demanded by

Porfirio Diaz and his representatives in the state offices refused to

come for fear of Yaqui depredationso

Under the leadership of Tetabiate in the 1890s, Yaquis left

the river towns, then occupied by the Mexican army, and retreated to

the Bacatetes and to haciendas throughout the state. From their rugged

mountain stronghold, they carried out a nagging guerilla campaign

against delta settlements and ranchos. The peace treaty signed at

Ortiz in 1897 proved to be transitory; guerilla activity began again in 1899. A more lasting peace v/as achieved — apparently — in I9OO when state troops killed kOO Yaquis and took 8OO more as captives in

the Battle of Mazocoba. The government proclaimed the formal end of

the Yaqui campaign in August of I9OI (Hu-Dehart 19745 79).

Less than a year later, Governor Rafael Izabal found it neces­

sary to design a new Yaqui policy, for the raids continued. Izabal

planned several operations,

to pursue and arrest the rebels in their mountain holdouts, and to concentrate and guard over the Yaqui mansos, or peace­ ful laborers, in the countryside. All employers of Yaqui workers were ordered to gather them into rancherias, or camps, in specifically designated areas to facilitate vigilance over them. The prefect of each district was required to register each month all Yaquis over 15 years of age and issue them passports. Yaquis found wandering without passports would be considered rebels and subject to arrest, and maybe even to deportation from the state (Hu-Dehart 1974:80), Of his options, Iz^bal was to find quickly that only deporta­ tion would work effectively. Between 1903 and I908, some 2,000 Yaquis, by conservative estimate, were forcibly deported to southern Mexico, and hundreds more took asylum in Arizona (Hu-Dehart 197^; Spicer I96I),

Large landowners in the Guaymas valley, long reliant on Yaquis as hacienda laborers, protested vigorously, but Izabal's policy was ulti­ mately successful. The Yaqui delta had been brought under Mexican con­ trol, and was finally safe for colonization.

By 1908, too, the Yaqui Valley had largely passed into the ownership of the CompaJiia Constructora Richardson of Los Angeles and

New York City.

On the strength of a concession for the railroad across the

Yaqui river from Guaymas, Davis Richardson raised his initial capital of 5150,000 from Los Angeles businessmen in 190^. A year later,

Richardson sold the railroad concession to the Southern Pacific and began to acquire the lands held by the creditors of Conant's enter­ prise. By 1906, he had acquired rights to 238,000 acres in the valley, with the extant network of canals and diversion dams on the left bank, for a price of S300,000. Following more purchases, the company owned

550,000 acres of land in May of 190?. The railroad was completed in the same year, and Richardson opened the valley to colonization. By

April 1909« some 28,850 acres had been sold in average plots of 100 hectares to 300 farmers from California, Arizona, Canada, and Sonora.

In the same year, the company obtained additional funding of one mil­ lion dollars and a twelve million dollar bond issue, for purposes of expanding the canal system. A contract was dravm up between the Mexican government and Richardson, giving the company rights to import without duty the machinery necessary to build and operate the irriga­ tion system and to expropriate lands under private ovmership which were needed for building the system (Compania Constructora Richardson

190if-1927).

The ouster of Diaz from the Mexican presidency had little im­ mediate impact on the Richardson enterprise. In 1911) the new presi­ dent, Madero, signed a revised contract, which re-affirmed the maximum limit on parcels sold to one individual — 2,000 hectares — set by the Diaz regime. And the new agreement allowed the company to raise the price of water delivered to its beneficiaries (Compania Construc­ tora Richardson 190^4—1927).

V/ith the official sanction of the Revolutionary government, the Richardson engineers designed a netv/ork of canals and drains that would hypothetically irrigate some 300,000 hectares of alluvium, on both sides of the river. On the ground, work went slowly. In the peak season of 1912-1913» only 11,000 hectares received water. And, as the Mexican Revolution continued through the decade, disrupting transportation links and construction schedules, and renewed Yaqui attacks on the Richardson colonists made farming uncertain, the acreage declined (see Appendix A).

Frustrated by the politics of revolution and the depredations of Yaquis who had resettled the pueblos, Richardson directors made plans to fold late in the decade. As Herbert A. Sibbett would recall,

ViTien the new constitution of 1917 v/as published prohibiting any foreigners from acquiring land v/ithin 100 kilometers of the border or 50 kilometers of the coast, and prohibiting anyone, 67

foreigner or Mexican, from owning more than 100 hectares of agricultural land anywhere in Mexico, it was evidently time to sell out (Compania Constructora Richardson 190^-1927)•

By 1927» the transfer was complete: for 6,000,000 pesos,

AlvcU'o Obregon, on behalf of the Mexican government, purchased the

Company. For their "extraordinary services" to the development of the valley, Sibbet and V/illiam Richardson, who had succeeded his brother as company president, were allowed to retain 200 hectares of land near

Esperanza, and an additional 2,000 hectares of pasture in the delta

(Compania Constructora Richardson 190if-1927)o

Railroads through the Yaqui Valley, connecting the region to

North American markets and eventually to central Mexico, had determined the fate of the Sonoran coast as a zone of export agriculture. Initi­ ated by Carlos Conant and extended by the Compafixa Constructora

Richardson, the network of canals added the infrastructure to make the region viable. But the canals had an additional impact: they deter­ mined to a large degree the geography of conflict in the Yaqui Valley

(Fig. 2). Before the infusion of North American investment, the zone of contention centered on the Yaqui pueblos. And the earliest canals, built after Cajeme's defeat, ran through old pueblo land. Conant altered the face of the land by running his main ditch down the left bank of the river, out onto the flat expanse of monte below the Yaqui towns. Richardson continued Conant's vision and pushed the main canal further south toward the Gid.f of California. Yaqui pueblos along the river were marginalized; the futiu*e of the delta lay in the Valle Nuevo to the south. The consequences were mixed. Pressures of encroachment on the indigenous lands were removed, for a time. But the water of Csl>lia9 OOMIb. 'OUAAO UirioftiiMi Bcaata. vmim

tAonot Com! J' Vieom jj*Torini Pofiirk) Wax 1 Cttwl ^ Conei ^

Conont Conol

; VALLC NUEVO

Qronch Motn Cenoi /

I SootliSMd

zzzzzz

Figure 2. The Yaqui Delta, 1917: cultivated lands and canals. - Source: Compani'a Constructora Richardson, maps of February 9» 1911 and June 30i 1917» the Rio Yaqui was also gone, tapped at Los Hornos for the expanse of

farmland to the south. Yaquis would slowly regain their historic land,

but little could be done with it.

Population Shifts and the Growth of a City

V/hen the Richardson technicians mapped the canals to open the

south Valle, they thereby fixed the economic geography of the delta.

The social geography would evolve more slowly and had not yet crystal­

lized by the 1920s. For much of the Porfiriato, and through the Decena

Tragica, 1910-1920, of the Revolution which followed, the center of

settlement, of commerce, and of hostility remained along the lower

river itself.

In his report to military superiors in 1900, Colonel Angel

Garcia Pena described the major pueblos, then under army occupation,

Cocorit already had a population of 1350 colonos, with only 7^0

indigenas remaining. At the nearby hacienda of La Esperanza, property

of Don Josfe Maria Parada, 82 indigenas sirvientes worked and lived, as

did 37 more on the ranch at Ontagota. Garcia Pena reported that,

Bacum is the most populous and, for this reason, has had-the most influence in the destiny of the tribe, evidenced by the fact that within the limits marked by the inhabitants of Bacum two towns have been formed by the work of the Scientific Com­ mission: Bacum and San Jose. The inhabitants of these towns are the rebels v;ho now are around in the forests (Troncoso 1905:270).

Torim, the next pueblo dovm the river, was the center of military

operations, with a population of 1221 non-Yaquis and ^l6 Yaquis. Vicam

had been abandoned by Yaquis; in their place a colony of farmers from 70

Chihuahua v/orked lands adjacent to a small canal. Potam had a popula­ tion of 76^ individuos civilizados, non-Yaqui, and 219 Yaquis.

This town, having there a military post which at present serves as housing for the ifth and 11th Batallions and also being close to the shore, is important as a first step for the resources which come from Guaymas. It also has a flour mill that grinds the wheat produced in this region and provides enough flour for local consumption, although this year there may not be as much wheat to grind as last year; due to the revolt, the wheat planting was scant (Troncoso 1905:272).

At the mouth of the Yaqui River, the settlement of M^dano served as an unloading point for goods shipped down the coast from Guaymas, With

8^19 Yaquis and 177 non-Yaquis in 1900, the port was abandoned when railroads were constructed through the delta (Troncoso 1905:272).

By 1900, then, canals were beginning to draw water from the lower river, and the agricultxiral potential of the alluvium was un­ folding. But the canals were inefficient, useful only when the river was high. It was obvious to settlers Emd engineers alike that the river had to be diverted further upstream (Hernandez 1902).

With the Rio Yaqui in high flood, more ominous problems arose for the settlements along its course. In 190^+, the equipment assembled to build the railroad through Torim was destroyed by a flood, and sur­ veyors were dispatched to relocate the tracks on higher ground.

Cocorit, BacTim, and Torim were bypassed, and a new railhead at Cajeme, in the Valle Nuevo, was established.

Faced with continued Yaqui unrest during the years of the

Revolution, Cajeme grew slowly. Initially, several mills for wheat and rice were built (Dabdoub 196^:524) to handle the surpluses of the

Richardson colonists. But little growth was possible until 1917» v/hen the national constitution temporarily quieted the power struggles among revolutionary leaders. Confronted with a consolidation of power in the state, Yaqui raids tapered off. After 1917» Cajeme expanded. By the

1920s, the town itself had some ^50 residents (Dabdoub 1964:336), with more spread throughout the Valle. In 1927i Cajeme attained the status of municipio (Almada 1952:127)» a legal reflection of economic and political inlportance, both real and anticipated. In the same year,

Torim lost its title of municipio, as did Cocorit three years later.

In 1928 Cajeme was given a new name — Ciudad Obregon — to honor the

Sonoran revolutionary and Mexican president (Almada 1952:128).

General Obregon visited the valley in 1926, touching off the last rebellion by disgruntled Yaquis. The outbreak was controlled, and the Mexican army built up the garrisons in the Yaqui pueblos.

Military occupation would last until the 1950s (Spicer 1961:70).

Conditions alonj^ the river finally stabilized. Cultivation around Ciudad Obregdn expanded, while the town grew into the major distribution and processing center for the region's agricultural out­ put. A new element was added to the social geography of the Valle, outside indigenous territory: the comunidades agrarias or ejidos.

The first such collective farms to receive land — in 1923 — were those of "Cajeme" and "El Yaqui," followed in the early 1930s by Bacum,

Cocorit, Quechehueca, and a number of others (Banco Nacional 1945tl8).

By the end of the 1930s, some 13,000 hectares had been awarded to

3,266 campesinos in the valley: k hectares of irrigated land per family head, and 10 hectares of potentially arable monte (Banco Nacio­ nal 19'+5j20). By 1935, though, the uneasy dualism of tenure had been set; much of the land was parcelled out to small farmers or ejidi- tarios in lots of less than 100 hectares; the remainder went to a few latifundistas. An agrarian census of the region in 1935 estimated that 27*071 hectares were owned by 85 individuals in lots larger than

150 hectares each (Banco Nacional 19'<'55 20) (Table 3)»

Further agricultural expansion in the Valle was stymied in the

1930s by the world-wide depression and, locally, by an aging irrigation system, taxed to its limits. Yaquis in the pueblos had already felt the impact of v;ater shortage as the diversion dam at Los Hornos sent the river south to Obregoh. As the Valle developed, Mexican growers began to run out of water as well. Angostvira Dam, built high in the sierra in the late 1930s, relieved the shortage momentarily and stimu­ lated further growth in the Valle in the 19^0s. For the Yaqui, the dam simply aggravated conditions on the right bank. By the lower river was dry for much of the year (Spicer 195^:^1-^2).

The Presidential Decrees of that late 1930s set aside the Zona

Indi'gena for the tribe, giving Yaquis legal title lands they had con­ tested for centuries. The Sierra de Bacatete was encircled by the new tribal boundary, and the ranges of its foothills and intermountain valleys would eventually be put to use by a Yaqui cattle cooperative.

The coastline was also awarded to the tribe, although it would take a series of political victories in the 1970s before Yaquis were to gain exclusive access to the resources there. And, under the C^denas man­ date, Yaquis regained control of their pueblos but only those north of the river, on the right bank. Eventually, with the completion in 1952 of the massive Alvaro Obregdh Dam a short way up the river from the 73

Table 3. Land ownership in the Valle del Yaqui 1935•

Size of Holdings (hec.) Area (hec.)

0-100 13»915

100-150 2,752

150-200 3,890

200-if00 9»079

400+ lif,102

Total A-3,738

SoTirce: Banco Nacional 19'<-5!20. old diversion point at Los Hornos, these pueblos would receive the irrigation waters essential to economic viability.

But the lands and towns to the south of the river were lost to the Mexicans. By the 1970s, though, few Yaquis believed that those lands were irretrievable. V/ith a political resolve that matched their armed struggles of the 19th century, Yaquis would mobilize in the

1970s to retake the lands on the left bank of the Rio Yaqui. The out­ come would be unsatisfying. The Valle del Yaqui was to remain in

Mexican hands. CHAPTER 4

DESCENT AND PERFORMANCE; YAQUI ETHNIC IDENTITY

Few Yaquis pay attention to the theoretical niceties of ethnic identity, to pivotal, sufficiently relevant, and peripheral attributes, to personal- and social-others, to impression management and audiences.

Few Mexicans, caught up in the minutia of daily life, philosophize about such things either. Quite simply, on first impression and through sustained observation, it appears that Yaquis know who and what they are; similarly, Mexicans knov; who and what they are, and what they are not.

To the majority of Yaquis and yoris, questions of ethnic bound­ aries, identity, and interaction are fundamentally uninteresting. But it is precisely this quality that makes such questions analytically exciting to the outside observer. The inquiry becomes: why is ethnic identity uninteresting, of little manifest concern? This chapter will deal, broadly, with this question.

Pivotal Attributes of Yaqui Identity

Pivotal or basic attributes of Yaqui ethnic identity, attri­ butes whose "absence or variation changes the whole identity of the role" (Nadel 1957:32), are explicitly sind uneimbiguously invoked by the

Yaquis themselves, but in strictly limited situations. Essentially, an individual's group membership, his identity as a Yaqui, is founded

75 upon parentage. Yaqui status is ascribed to children by virtue of

being born to Yaqui parents. More specifically, it is transmitted

patrilineally: a child of a mixed union, where the father is Yaqui

and the mother not, is himself considered Yaqui and accorded full

rights and duties in the pueblo. The reverse, where mother is Yaqui

but father is non-Yaqui, leads to partial disenfranchisement of the

offspring. And, of course, offspring whose parents are both Yaqui are

themselves considered Yaqui, but no more nor less so than children of

a Yaqui father.

Parentage as the criterion for discriminating Yaqui from non-

Yaqui works adequately under local circumstances, where the personal

biographies of most individusils and kin groups are well-known or easily

discovered. Through observation and gossip, residents of Yaqui barrios

in Potam are well-informed about the genealogies of neighborhood co-

residents. Kinship and co-parent ties to other barrios serve to link

individuals into the information networks of other barrios, so that

virtually every Yaqui in Potam can classify every other individual as

to ethnic status. In other Yaqui pueblos, smaller in population than

Potaim, the classifying task is correspondingly easy.

Such information on parentage is sought and offered only under

specific circumstances, however. One class of circumstances involves

incongruity, where an individual appears out of place, and hence calls

his ethnic status into question. In one case, a young man appeared in

Potam the v/eek before Semana Santa (Holy VJeek), driving a pick-up with

Arizona plates, wearing an army-surplus jacket and long hair. My

landlady observed him with interest as he drove through the barrio in search of a local tequila dealer. She made no comment until, after he

had passed by, I questioned her about the new arrival. She replied

that indeed, he is Yaqui; his father was Ramon, an old and respected

Poteftb, holder of several religious and political positions. Without

having met the young man, Maria drew upon her general knowledge of

family histories and recent gossip; she added that he was living in

Guadelupe and had come to visit his family. The young man, incongruous as any stranger would be, was immediately classifiable, and immediately

classified, by genealogical background.

A second example involves a brief encounter on the dusty main street of Potam between a traditionally dressed Yaqui couple and several chamacas, teen-aged girls, clothed in contemporary style of blue jeans and tight blouses. V/ithout prompting from me, the couple began complaining to themselves of the "new generation," the young

Potenos who evidence little respect for their elders, little interest in traditional Yaqui dress, and little desire to grasp the Yaqui dialect. Their complaints were not bitter, but simply mild, resigned observations on the state of affairs. (The couple's own son, a boy of

12, understands Yaqui when it is spoken, but responds to his parents in Spanish, receiving no reproach.) Finally, I asked the couple whether the girls were in fact Yaqui. They responded affirmatively, and briefly related personal biographies: who the parents were, where they lived,

A young girl, about age 7» frequently toured the house com­ pounds of Santiamea barrio in Potam selling home-made donuts, tamales, and fruit. Dressed in store-bought clothes, seldom changed from day to day, she had an extremely fair complexion and brovmish-blond hair, in marked contrast to darker-haired, darker-skinned Yaquis. One day,

Maria, Lorenzo, and their daughter joked with the child, pretending she was selling lona (canvas), not dona (donuts) from her bucket.

They teased, calling her ^5ayo, then yori; the girl, not offended, en­ joyed the bantering. After she had left, I asked Maria about the child. My landlady assured me that she \>ras Yaqui, daughter of Yaqui parents who were close friends and neighbors of Mari'a.

In each case, the individuals were incongruous. In the first, the young man weis a stranger, unknown to most Potenos. In the second, the teenagers were incongruous in dress and speech, not to Yaqui or yori peers but to older, more traditional Yaquis. And in the third, the child was phenotypically anomalous. In all three cases, the parentage was quickly established by the observer, eind the ethnic iden­ tity of the individuals in question followed from that knowledge.

Apart from incongruous situations, the issue of an individual's ethnic status, his group membership, arises most frequently and most importantly under jural circumstances: when an individual petitions the pueblo governors for access to resources within pueblo territory.

Informants suggest that the Yaqui governors must, in theory, grant permission to: (1) construct a house on pueblo territory (within the pueblo proper, as well as the outlying desert, the monte); (2) culti­ vate crops or graze cattle in pueblo territory; and (3) utilize wild resotarces of the monte. Under these circumstances, the pueblo gover­ nors must judge the petitioning individual's ethnic group membership. The criterion employed is genealogical; the ethnic identity of the petitioner's parents.

An occasional event, illustrative of this process, occurs v/hen an Arizona Yaqui wants to return to the reserve, establish residence, and cultivate land. Typically, the petitioning individual will be accompanied by his local relatives, who attest to his family background before the pueblo governors. In such cases, ethnic status clearly overrides national citizenship; Yaquis are considered as such whether they live in Sonora or in the United States. Sonoran Yaquis do not hesitate to comment upon the lack of facility many of their Arizonan counterparts display with the Yaqui language, particularly the formal­ ized procedures of greeting and leave-taking. Yet they do not question the Arizonans' ethnic status, nor withhold the rights and duties attendant upon that status.

Rights of Yaqui group membership consist of access to land for cultivation, house-building, cattle-grazing, and wild resource proctore- ment. They include, too, the right to participate in Yaqui economic cooperatives, the farming and fishing sociedades and the cattle coop.

By satisfactorily establishing one's genealogical identity, an indi­ vidual automatically obtains this constellation of ri^ts.

Contrary to Goodenough (1969:315)? however, rights and duties are not "two sides of the same coin." In any relationship, theoreti­ cally, "^'s rights over ^ are the things he can demand if B; these same things are what B owes jft, B* s duties in the relationship. Now taking Goodenough's ^'s as Yaqui petitioners, and his ^'s as Yaqui governors, we can see that B's duties are contingent upon factors other than a determination of ^'s ethnic statuso ^ can be denied the right to cultivate land if no such arable land is available at the time of the petition. ^ may be denied membership in a cooperative if there are too many people working the resoxirces of that sociedad already.

And a group of Yaquis may be denied the right to form a new collective if the tract of leind they have chosen to work is deemed unsuitable, in the opinion of the Yaqui governors and Mexican land inspectors.

These rights, accorded to Yaquis by virtue of their genealogi­ cal ties, are not granted to yoris or half-Yaquis, offspring of yori fathers. Individuals of non-Yaqui ethnic status may not cultivate land within the Yaqui reserve, and may not join Yaqui cooperatives. They may utilize the wild resources of the monte, but on payment of a fee to the pueblo governors. They may, as well, live within the confines of a Yaqui pueblo, but are subject to threats of expulsion by the governors. (I have no cases of actual expulsion of resident yoris by

Yaqui governors.)

In Potam, one of the more successful shop-keepers falls into this category. The Yaqui woman, now elderly and married to a yori, runs the store at the edge of one of the Yaqui barrios, away from the main locus of yori activity along the central street. Helping her in the store are her daughter, wed to a local yori schoolteacher, and the grandchildren. Although poorly stocked, the store handles a good volume of small purchases, last-minute items needed by neighboring

Yaquis. And the woman offers easy credit terms to mainy of the Yaqui socios (members of farming and fishing sociedades); they prefer to deal with her rather than with yori businessmen of Potam or Estacion

Vicam.

Active in local commerce and credit, a frequent attendant at

Yaqui rituals, the woman nevertheless ovms no land, nor do her descen­ dants.

The above examples are cleai^-cut: genealogy serves as the pivotal attribute in defining the ethnic status of an individual, and thereby his rights and duties within the Yaqui reserve. However, these examples cover only a restricted set of circumstances. First, the classifier in each case stands as a "personal-other" to the person in question. Local residents, in the preceding examples, "know" the biography, the genealogy, of other individuals. And the governors, faced with a request for land and other rights, develop, if they do not already possess, a biography of the petitioner. Second, in each of the cases discussed, the individual's genealogy, his biography, was founded upon putative biological, not sociological, parentage.

How is an individual's ethnic identity determined when the classifier is not a "personal-other," but must make a ready judgment for purposes of interaction? How is an individual's status determined when he can claim only sociological parentage? Can an individual, in practice, hide "some yori skeletons in the closet?" The first question implicates the area of secondary role attributes, the more-or-less ade­ quate markers of ethnic group membership, but not definers of that membership. This will be discussed in some detsiil below. The latter questions, however, are relevant to the application of pivotal attri­ butes to individual cases, where the classifier may be a 82

"biographical-other" attempting to categorize an individual whose biography has been faked.

Ho definitive solution can be offered to this problem, since such judgments appear to be casuistical. One case may be offered as suggestive of the process of categorizing those with contrived gene­ alogies. A close friend in the field, one whom I found generally trustworthy on most topics of political and economic (but not ritual) concern, proved a poor informant when the question of his own family background arose, V/hen not in his presence, neighbors and friends suggested, tentatively, that the man's father was yori, living in

Guaymas. No one was very certain, however. The man himself never talked about his parents, and since early childhood had lived v;ith his maternal grandparents in Potam. He still lives in the same compound with them, along with his maternal aunt, his own wife and five children.

He has taken the surname of his maternal grandfather, once pueTaLo mayor of Potam and still a most respected figure in town. And he consis­ tently refers to, and addresses, this elderly man as "father," his maternal grandmother as "mother." This informant's wife is well aware of the fiction, but upholds it, as do the children: the man's biologi­ cal father, by all accounts a rather disreputable figure, is seldom mentioned.

This genealogiccil fiction, hidden quite effectively from the anthropologist but common knowledge throughout the barrio, has not pre­ vented the man from attaining full rights and duties of Yaqui ethnic status. Nor has it prevented him from attaining at least the trappings of respect throughout the pueblo: he is currently in line for one of the major political posts in Potam. He has, thus, adequately satisfied present Yaqui governors as to his ethnic group membership.

I did not stand in a "personal-other" relation to enough Yaquis to be able to estimate the extent of genealogical fictions. Neverthe­ less, the case at hand suggests that full Yaqui status can be attained if an individual, lacking a Yaqui as biological father, has lived most of his life in a Yaqui pueblo, under the socialization of relatives who are unquestionably Yaqui. Additionally, the respect garnered by my informant's grandfather as pueblo mayor may have contributed to his grandson's acceptance as a Yaqui.

If this interpretation is correct — and lack of comparative material makes it questionable — then an important qualification to my argument must be acknowledged: that performance attributes can in fact be translated into pivotal ones. It may be possible for an indi­ vidual to achieve group membership when his ascriptive claims are not valid, I would argue, however, that such translations, "loopholes" in the ascriptive foundations of Yaqui membership, are rather clearly limited. Individuals without known Yaqui patrilineal ancestors will not be admitted to group membership. V/ithin this limit, the flexi­ bility with which Yaqui officials interpret and apply the criterion of biological parentage has an importEint function. It allov;s for past demographic realities: Yaquis at several times in the 19th and 20th centuries have been forced into close interaction and, undoubtedly, intermarriage, with Mexicans in Sonora and Yucatan. Necessarily, an ascriptive membership rule can survive only when it is applied with a measure of laxity. With ethnic status defined by genealogical ties, there is strong if informal social pressure to marry within the tribe. Of the five marriages I v;itnessed in the field, four were between Yaquis.

The non-conforming case, between a Yaqui girl in her eairly twenties and an itinerant artist from Baja California, is most instructive of the nature of social pressure exerted upon potential mates. Julio, in his mid-thirties, had left his father's clothing store in Tijuana to travel Mexico in search of inspiration for his developing artistic talents. Retiirning north from Mexico City and the Indian towns of

Oaxaca, he took a room in Estacion Vicam. Serving as interpreter

(English-Spanish) for another anthropologist newly arrived in the field,

Julio came into contact with a pueblo functionary, the alawasin of

Vicam pueblo, who lived up the road in Estacion Vicam. Social visits with the alawasin and his feunily evolved into a close friendship be­ tween the artist and one of the daughters.

After several months of association, dtiring which Julio became increasingly interested in a quasi-ethnographic study of Yaqui curan- deras, they broached the subject of marriage to the alawasin and his wife. The alawasin raised few objections, perhaps seeing in the mar­ riage some financial gain for his family; Julio, without any visible means of support, was obviously not suffering. However, the alawasin's wife and her mother, both traditionally-oriented women, vigorously objected. The objections did not center around the rights to fsurming land. The alawasin controlled no land in the pueblo, and thus his daughter, marrying a Mexican, would suffer no immediate disenfran- chisement. Rather, the women's uneasiness with the proposed marriage resulted from fear that the couple would quickly move to Tijuana. They feared, additionally, that the marriage would prove unstable, due to the daughter's inexperience with the relatively sophisticated social atmosphere of the border city, Julio was unconvincing in his expressed desire to remain forever in the Yaqui Zone,

These fears were translated concretely into the objection'that

Julio, a new resident and unable to understand or speak Yaqui, would be unable to request permission to marry from the relatives of the girl, would have no Yaqui to vouch for his character, and \i70uld not comprehend the traditional sermon delivered to the couple by a maestro during the marriage ceremony. Moreover, Julio would have no Yaqui family to sponsor the bride-groom's household fiesta, a necessary com­ plement to the wedding ritual being conducted concurrently at the house of the bride,

Julio and his future father-in-law obviated many of these dif­ ficulties, They enlisted the services of an elderly Poteno, who was highly respected as a tampalero, drummer for the pascolas, but rather down-and-out financially and morally. The man acted as spokesman for

Julio in front of the alawasin's reluctant and traditional family and briefed Julio on the contents of the important marriage sermon. The marriage eventually csime about, in modified form: a small, poorly attended household fiesta was held at the alawasin's residence in

Estacion Vicam,

In sum, Yaqui ethnic status, defined as the rights and duties inherent in tribal membership, is treinsmitted patrilineally. Marriage then becomes the key point at which the allocation of ethnic status can be regulated. It is the point at which Yaqui parents may attempt to control the marital wishes of their daughters and hence the ethnic status of subsequent grandchildren. Social pressures to ensure tri- bally endogamous unions exist and, if my small sampling of five observed marriage cases is any valid indication, these pressures can be effective. In the one non-endogamous case, permission to marry

Julio would most likely have been denied had the alawasin supported the fears and reluctance of his wife. And the marriage would not have taken place under the auspices of the Yaqui maestro.

Secondary Attributes of Yaqui Identity

Ethnic identity, like any status, consists of both pivotal and secondary attributes. The latter are, simply, residual attributes whose absence or variation do not change the whole identity of the status. They are, in other words, the features remaining after the

"governing property" of the status has been isolated (Nadel 1957:53)-

In practice, though, there may be no set of imambiguously pivotal attributes, no set of unambiguously secondary attributes. There may be disagreement among observers over governing properties and secondary attributes; there may be variation in elicited responses, depending on who you ask, about whom you ask, why you ask.

The most expedient way to isolate pivotal from secondary attributes is, as I have done in the preceding section, to uncover the attributes upon which rights and duties of ethnic group membership are allocated. The criterion employed by Yaquis to discriminate group membership is genealogical: the demonstration that one's father is 87

Yaqui. This leaves a substantial set of residual elements, including

attributes that most observers would claim as the essence of Yaqui

identity: lamguage, dress, participation in distinctively Yaqui

rituals and political organization, shared historical experiences. I

will argue, though, that absence or variation in the manifestation of

these attributes does not alter the allocation of the rights and duties

pertaining to Yaqui status.

With each of these secondary attributes of Yaqui identity,

observed differences may be treated as more-or-less Yaqui, more-or-less

Mexican. Objectively, perhaps, individual Yaquis may be placed on a scale of assimilation to Mexican society. However, such a perspective contradicts the data at hsind, as well as my underlying claim. For specific individuals rarely display a similar degree of assimilation on each of these separate attributes. And the degree of assimilation, on single attributes or the constellation of attributes, does not con­ travene an individual's claim to Yaqui status, based as it is on the pivotal attribute of parentage.

Dress

In many societies, dress is an effective, visible marker of ethnic identity; it may be firmly "entailed" in the series of ethnic attributes. Along the Rio Yaqui, this is not the case. Two rather distinct styles of dress can be isolated, one a "traditional Yaqui" style, the other a "contemporary northwest Mexican" pattern, Tradi- tionail style can be more easily defined for Yaqui females than for males. It generally consists of thick leather sandals with thongs wrapped up the ankle, and ankle-length full dress, loose fitting

blouse, and rebozo, a manufactured shawl used as head-covering, baby-

carrier, and as protection agednst wind and dust. The full-cut dress

is most distinctive, made from brightly colored satin and ribbed with

parallel bands of white lace. V/hile the material is now store-bought, the dresses themselves are handmade. Yaqui women take great pride in

their outfits, and insist on sewing a new dress to be displayed for the first time during Sabado de Gloria (Easter Saturday), Industrious

groups of women spend late nights during Semana Santa at their sewing

machines, finishing their dresses. Rebozos are also a source of pride.

Women eagerly await shipment of new ones into town; such shipments are invariably spoken for long before they arrive from Guadalajara. And some women longingly speak of traveling to that city, producer of the finest Mexican rebozos.

Equally a part of Yaqui women's dress are large gold-plated earrings purchased from local variety stores. Earrings serve not only as an object of admiration by other women, but also as pawn, held by storekeepers as collateral for small loans or credit towards food,

A new rebozo every two or three years and a new dress every

Easter, involves Yaqui women in a sizable expense. Rebozos may cost

300 to UOO pesos,^ and material for dresses may cost as much. The alternative of machine-made print dresses from large department stores in Guaymas or Obregon is cheaper, yet decidedly less attractive to

Yaqui women.

^At 1975 exchainge rates, one Mexican peso = $.08 U.S. currency. Male outfits are now, by and large, of Mexican origin and pur­

chased in stores. Invariably a cowboy-style sombrero is worn, along

with a print shirt and jeans or slacks. Most males still own sandals

but more commonly wear boots. The only discriminating item, worn by

some but not all Yaquis, is a brightly colored handkerchief tied around

the neck, serving as a rag, washcloth, bandage, and as protection

against dust. Thus the "traditional Yaqui" dress, for males, is essen­

tially the same as that of northwest Mexican cowboys and campesinos.

Such clothing serves as more of an occupational than an ethnic marker,

for it clearly differentiates Yaqui and Mexican farmers and ranchers

from urban white-collar professionals, service personnel, and skilled

laborers.

Like women, Yaqui men aspire to a new outfit for Sabado de

Gloria. Inability to afford a new set of clothes was often offered as

an excuse for non-attendance at the major rituals of Semana Santa.

Language

Most Yaqui adults are bilingual. By contrast, no Mexicans

living in or near the Yaqui reserve (aside from missionaries) have de­

veloped any competence in the Yaqui language. Yaqui bilingualism has

a long history. Incorporation of Spanish words into Yaqui lexicon has

been a continuous process, beginning with early Spamish missionaries

(Spicer 19'<-5; Johnson 19^3)• The primary impetus to bilingualism came,

however, in the 19th century when Yaquis were in heavy demand as

laborers in the underpopulated frontier state of Sonora. Highly re­

spected as workers, Yaquis were employed on haciendas, ranchos, and mines. Through intimate contact with Mexican workers, many Yaquis be­ came fluent in Spanish (Spicer 196l:^8-'f9)•

During the thirty years following Cajeme's defeat by Mexican militia in 188?, the ability to speak Spanish acquired a definite sur­ vival advantage. The Mexican government, unable to peacefully settle the Yaqui valley, adopted a policy of deportation. Captured Yaquis were sent to Yucatan and Oaxaca as plantation laborers (Turner 1969)i others emigrated to Arizona, And many, presumably, managed to escape detection by blending in with the Sonoran lower classes, speaking

Spanish rather than Yaqui,

Bilingualism has continued: the overwhelming majority of

Sonoran Yaquis of all ages can competently speak and understand both

Spanish and Yaqui« Proficiency varies, however. Among elderly adults, a common pattern occurs: they understand spoken Spanish, but feel more comfortable speaking Yaqui, Most active adults are equally comfortable with Yaqui and Spanish, although their spoken Spanish seldom contains the common colloquialisms of northwest Mexico, Nor do they competently control the more intricate subjunctive forms of Spanish (see Thompson

197^:123-12'+). Yaqui teenagers and young adults, whose peer groups often include local Mexicans and who often work and live in the pres­ ence of the ubiquitous transistor radio, appear more comfortable with regional Spanish than with the Yaqui language. Virtually none of them, however, fail to understand £ind speak Yaqui, For younger children, language use is less easily classified. Through local schooling, most are becoming literate in Spanish, but remain able to understand Yaqui as well. Many are not yet fluent in Yaqui, responding with Spanish to questions, put either in Spanish or Yaqui, At the same time though, a

large minority of Yaqui children can and do speak Yaqui.

With such variation within and between generations, it is dif­

ficult to predict the future course of bilingualism among Yaquis. Ob­

served differences in the patterns of bilingualism seem more a function

of the individual's place in the life cycle from birth through old age

than an indication of his proclivity to assimilate into Mexican

society. Elderly Yaquis, most of whom were probably quite fluent in

Spanish during the turbulent first three decades of this century, now

are immobile, with little need or desire to interact with Mexican

society. The uncomfortable feeling these elders have with Spanish may

thus stem simply from disuse of that language.

Fully active adults often work for Mexican patrons, shop in

Mexican-owned stores, and deal recurrently with Mexican government,

economic, and health agencies. They are consequently quite comfortable

with spoken Spanish. This age group is likewise the most active in

Yaqui politicsil and ritual institutions, which demand an easy control

of the Yaqui language. Teenagers and young adults, recently educated

in Mexican schools, are by no means immune to the prestige attached to

the bantering facilities of their young Mexican peers. At the same

time, many of these youths are initiating careers as Yaqui adults, for

which a command of the Yaqui language is necessary.

Young children of school and pre-school age acquire at least an understanding of spoken Yaqui when they are socialized in Yaqui-

speaking families and barrios. Few sanctions are imposed on children who fail to speak Yaqui at this age; parents consciously recognize the need for children to develop the necessary language skills for Mexican

schooling.

Most Yaquis, then, develop a working control of Spanish for

instrumental purposes, for dealing directly with Sonoran Mexican

society. Most, likewise, develop competency in spoken Yaqui during

their lifetime, through socialization within Yaqui-speaking families.

The ability to speak Yaqui appears to be a most "firmly entailed"

secondary attribute of Yaqui ethnic status.

Ability to speak Yaqui is so firmly entailed because it is

essential to full participation in the religious and political insti­

tutions of Yaqui society. Political deliberations by the Yaqui gover­

nors at pueblo meetings are conducted in Yaqui; any Yaqui wishing to

speak up and influence the decisions must address the gathering in

Yaqui. Mexican officials may and do address the assembled authorities

in Spanish, but the attendant discussions among Yaquis, even in the

presence of outside officials, are in Yaqui. And formal or informal

petitioning to pueblo governors by Yaqui residents, for access to land

or other resources, appears invariably to be carried out in Yaqui, by

the petitioner himself or a spokesman.

Political and religious office-holding dememds more than just

the ability to communicate wishes and opinions in Yaqui, however. It

demands a competency in what Spicer has appropriately called the

"ritual of words."

An important qualification for the office of governor, of maestro, of pueblo mayor and even of pascola dancer is the ability to speak well at public gatherings. Speaking well has to do with clarity of enunciation, deliberateness of address, and also the ability to vary the rhythm for emphasis. But 93

such qualities are relatively unimportant, it is said, as com­ pared with a memory of the proper phrases and the ability to combine these phrases in ways that the people are accustomed to hearing. ... Ritual speeches are a prominent feature of every formsLl gathering. ... At point after point in all the standard ceremonies there is a place for a speech, and the ceremony does not proceed until the speech has been given (Spicer 195^j160-161).

Competency in the ritual manipulation of sacred Yaqui phrases appears to vary widely among Yaquis now, and adequacy not excellence in the ritual of words may be sufficient for selection as governor. A close acquaintance of mine in the field was indeed chosen to be gover­ nor of Potam despite a lack of training and aptitide for ritual speech- making. He ultimately refused the position, relating to me how the duties would be too time-consuming during a year in which he intended to begin production on a new plot of land. He also alluded to his anxiety over the ritual speeches required of the governor. He did not yet feel adequately prepared.

Training in the ritual of words, a skill which some but by no means all Yaqui adults develop, comes through exposure to speeches at political and religious occasions. And it is also encouraged through actual practice, when individual fajnily heads are called upon to spon­ sor a household fiesta. The sponsor must deliver speeches of welcome and thanking to ritual participants.

In these recurrent occasions a few brief words eire not satis­ factory. The speeches must cover the situation fully, which means mention of the supernatural sanctions operating in the case, the purpose of the ceremony, the participants and their various roles in the occasion. Speeches of this sort are made in the presence of large groups of people under highly formal conditions. A man or woman must have a command of words and be able to carry through a more or less coherent speech (Spicer 195^:165-16^). 9k

While meiny adult Yaquis do develop competency in the "ritual of words," some have carefully avoided the circumstances which call for extended speeches. A traditionally-oriented but introverted and inar­ ticulate Yaqui man, faced with the responsibility for sponsoring his son's marriage fiesta while I was in the field, decided to hold the ceremony at his father's house instead of his ovm. The ostensible reason for the switch was that his own rancheria was too remote to attract a crowd; his father's house compound in Potam would serve bet­ ter. By changing locales, the man placed the task of welcoming and thanking participants on his father, a former pueblo mayor and acknowl­ edged expert in the ritual of words. Competency in ritual speech, al­ though desired by most adult Yaquis, may be studiously avoided.

The numerous occasions for hearing and using the Yaqui lan­ guage assiu?e that it is a firmly entailed attribute of Yaqui ethnic status: most adult Yaquis can conduct interpersonal relations with other Yaquis in the language, even if they never develop competency in the "ritual of words." Yet the ability to speak and understand Yaqui is nevertheless a "secondary attribute" of ethnic status: some adults enjoy the rights and duties of Yaqui group membership with only minimal comprehension of Yaqui and little or no ability to speak it. Several of my acquaintances among Yaqui fishermen fell into this category.

One shrimper of about 55 years of age speaks little Yaqui and seems to understand little as well: he seldom proceeds beyond the tradition- eG. and common phrases for greeting and departure. He is highly re­ spected by other coop members for his boat-handling skills and fishing knowledge, gained through years of experience with Mexican shrimpers in Guaymas and Empsilmeo Along with his son of about 30, he considers himself a Protestant. But occasionally they attend Yaqui fiestas, maintain compadre ties in attenuated form, and live during the non- fishing season in a Yaqui barrio of Potara. While behaviorly marginal to Yaqui society, the two fishermen, father and son, are granted full rights in the Yaqui fishing coop, signifying the acceptability of their claims to Yaqui status by coop officials and pueblo governors.

The two fishermen unquestionably represent a small minority of

Yaquis — those with little or no linguistic competence in the Yaqui language, but who by virtue of their acknowledged genealogical ties, are accorded the rights and duties of Yaqui group membership. The overwhelming majority of active adult Yaquis are competent to conduct daily interactions, if not the "ritual of words," in Yaqui.

Traditional Knowledge and Shared Historical Experience

Spicer (1971) and Parsons (1975:60) have stressed the impor­ tance of shared historical experience as a component of ethnic identity systems. In Spicer's (1971s796) view of "persistent identity systems,"

...the meanings of the symbols consist of beliefs about historical events in the experience of the people through generations. The belief that the experience is shared with and through ancestors is basic to such systems.

Equally important to the identity system would be a shared understand­ ing of the "mythologicEil" experiences, a knowledge and interest in the charters of society. Moreover, for those professing a particular ethnic identity, we might expect a knowledge and belief in contemporary ritual symbols. In short, we might expect ethnic identity to be founded on a shared "culture," an 96

...historically transmitted pattern of meanings embodied in symbols, a system of inherited conceptions expressed in sym­ bolic forms by means of which men communicate, perpetuate, and develop their knowledge about eoid attitudes toward life (Geertz 1975:89).

One of the primary symbols of Yaqui identity (and Mayo iden­

tity; see Crumrine 196^) is the house cross, a wooden cross placed in

front of Yaqui houses. V/ith some success, Crumrine was able to use

the house cross as a physical marker of Mayo identification, as did

Spicer for the Yaquis of Pascua, Tucson (Spicer 19^0:1). For Sonoran

Yaquis, the house cross may also serve as a material expression of ethnic identification, yet the meanings attached to, and the respect shown for, the cross varies markedly from household to household.

Many Yaqui families maintain their house crosses in their yards throughout the year, being careful to right them when knocked over by stray children, pigs, and dogs. Other families show little interest in their crosses during most of the year. Crosses are often neglected, carelessly stashed near ramadas, or leaned tinceremoniously against out­ houses. On occasion, during cold winter nights, house crosses may be burned as firewood, Yaquis who have done this, quite absent-mindedly, run the risk of falling to supernaturally-inflicted disease; at least, any illness subsequent to the biirning may be attributed to such causes.

Less variability is evident during the two calendrical cere­ monies in which the house cross plays an integral part. On All Saints and All Souls Days (Todos Santos), in early November, crosses are caire- fully prepared in most households for the visit of the dead Yaqui an­ cestors, einiimam (see Spicer 195^+5123-12^)• Abutting the house cross, carefully decorated with ribbon and flowers, are tables upon which a meal is laid out for the visiting ancestors. Maestros and their cantoras move from household to household during the evening of All

Souls Day, praying and singing for the aniimam. The maestros are then presented with the foods, which they eat on the spot or deposit in buckets and baskets carried by the csuitoras, for later consumption.

Following the ceremony, the emptied table is removed to the eating ramada, and the decorations of the house cross are left to deteriorate.

House crosses are readied again during Lent, V/hile they may indeed have many symbolic linkages to the pueblo-wide ceremonies of

Waresma (Lent) (see Crumrine 196if;30-3^)» there is a more immediate need to display the cross. Members of the Kohtumbrera make limosna expeditions, frequent rounds of the houses marked with crosses to col­ lect money for defraying costs of the ceremonies. Failing to have a house cross in place, households will be bypassed by the Kohtumbrem.

And the result is general embarrassment for members of the household, who quickly resurrect their neglected crosses in time for the next visit. The monetary outlay is smeG-l at the limosna; a few pesos con­ tributed, centavo by centavo, for each of the children.

Virtually all Yaqui families display, however tardily, a house cross during Lent. And a majority, but by no means all, participate in the ceremonies of All Saints and All Souls Day. The symbolic associations of the house cross vary quite markedly among Yaquis, how­ ever. Less introspective and less religious Yaquis will attribute a meaning of protection: the cross guards the house and its inhabitants against danger, against supernaturally inflicted diseases, misfortune, and accidents. Thus, house crosses function in similar fashion to the 98 small palm-leaf crosses woven by children on Palm Sunday, to be hung on automobile dashboards and bycycle handlebars®

Less common is the knowledge of the symbolic connection of house crosses with the tomb of Christ and of the dead ancestors (see

Crumrine 196^+:39) during All Souls Day. When questioned about the role of the cross and table during Todos Santos, Yaquis may simply say,

"That's the way we've always done ito" ' Only a few Yaquis, primarily maestros and pascolas, can articulate the association between house crosses and the Way of the Cross surrounding the church, although most

Yaquis have a general, vague understanding of the symbolic act of knocking down the crosses during the Crucifixion, replacing them during the Resurrection.

Knowledge aind interest in Yaqui myths are not prevalent through­ out the Yaqui population. The origin myth, "Yomumuli and the Little

Surem People" (Giddings 1959s25-27), appears to be recited only with the stimulus of inquiring anthropologists. After a brief and uninfor- mative discussion of myths, my Yaqui landlord, somewhat embarrassed in his lack of mythic knowledge, visited his grandfather. Severeil hours later he returned and closeted me in a room with two of his chil­ dren. Proudly but with little flourish, he related the origin myth he had just lesirned from his grandfather, and illustrated the tale with a drawing. Somewhat redeemed in the face of his children and his anthro­ pologist, he claimed that few Yaquis know, and can recite in any detail, the corpus of myths.

Similarly, detailed knowledge of historical experiences is not widespread among Yaquis. There is clearly a general interest in the 99 broad outlines of Yaqui-Mexican relations, and pride in the knowledge that Yaquis tenaciously resisted Mexican colonization attempts in the

19th and early 20th centuries. Old men and women who participated in these struggles are avidly listened to by younger Yaquis. Yet such occasions are rare, contingent upon an elder feeling in a reminiscent mood, or agreeing to talk with an anthropologist. Several times during ray residence in the field, my landlady's aging grandfather paid her a visit, entering into long, rambling but eloquent monologues on Yaqui history, particularly his role in the construction of the massive adobe church in Potam. Clearly ejiraptured, Maria excitedly talked to me about how well he spoke, hov/ clear his mind remains despite approaching blindness, deafness, and physical disability. Significantly, though, the enculturative functions of these sessions were ignored or unrecog­ nized; no attempt was made to gather an audience, to call in Maria's children from their play.

Transmission of historical knowledge seems now to be entirely haphazard and unstructured. I found no evidence for the persistence of an "historical seminar" such as Spicer observed in the pueblo of Rahum, of historical specialists actively working to preserve the main out­ lines of Yaqui history (Spicer 195^:24). These native historians were instrumental in elaborating and transmitting the sacred myth of the

"singing of the boundary."

There were four great men among the Yaquis who called the people together and led them around the boundaries of the Yaqui country. They stair ted from a point called Mogonea (now covered with water in the sea) sind went to Cabora on the Cocoraqui arroyo between the Yaqui and Mayo Rivers. From there they proceeded to Takalaim, a peak just north of Guaymas in the Gulf of California. As they went along the boundary 100

the four "prophets" preached sermons and sang with the people. This was the establishment of the boundary line which was seeded by "the singing of the Holy Dawn" and was done in the name of the Three Gods, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, The Rahum mythologists point out that it is clear from this that no man set up the Yaqui territory; it was done by God and therefore cannot be changed in any part by mere men, specifi- csilly not by Mexican officials (Spicer 195'+:126).

Attempting to elicit a similar recounting of the charter myth,

I presented before several adi:ilt Yaqui men a copy of Spicer* s 197^ map

which traces the mythical boundary from Mogonea, up the Arroyo

Cocoraqui, around the Bacatete Mountains to Takalaim, northwest of

Guayraas (Spicer 197'+:3)- The procedure had unexpected results; none of my informants could articulate the myth, but they became intensely interested in the map. Throughout the year, governors of all pueblos had been meeting with Mexican government officials to discuss the zone's southern boundary from Esperanza to Lobos. The complaint was a perennial one: encroachment by Mexican farmers and residents onto

Yaqui land, Yaquis demanded a new survey and mapping of the line, as well as expulsion of yoris from farm lands and half the residential area of Esperanza, In the context, Spicer's map quickly became a political tool, Yaqui governors displayed it before Mexican officials, with the conciliatory argument that Yaquis were only asking for the return of small acreage, not the entire aboriginal domain. The in­ genious argument held little weight with government officials.

Knowledge of Yaqui history and tradition has clearly diminished in recent decades. Yet this attenuation has not left contemporary

Yaqui society in a "free-floating," de-cultured state (see Eisenstadt

196^:577)• When elements of such traditional knowledge are invoked, however casually, in the modern setting, they meet with immediate £ind 101

interested response. At other times — indeed much of the time —

traditional knowledge may remain entirely unobtrusive. But it is sel­

dom denounced.

Ritual-Political Participation

Two of the most ostensible markers of ethnic identity are par­ ticipation in ceremonial societies and assumption of political office.

For Yaqui institutions — politicaQ. and religious — are distinctive in both contemporary and historical Sonoran society. Yet the frequency of participation has little effect on the ethnic status of the indi­ vidual. Participation does not affect the allocation of rights and duties tied to Yaqui ethnic status.

Two types of participation may be distinguished: active in­ volvement in the positions of the "realms of authority," and partici­ pation by attendance at religious performances and political gatherings.

This distinction corresponds roughly to one noted by Spicer (195^+:56) between active political and religious office-holders and men desig­ nated kia pweplum, "just pueblo." The latter hold no office and gener­ ally have low prestige. I did not hear any terminological distinctions between active participation and attendance or non-active participation during my field work, however.

Active participation demands sacrifices of time and money.

Members of the kohtumbre ya'uram work virtually full-time for the duration of the Lenten season. Fiesteros spend less time in prepara­ tion for the pueblo saint's days, but may expend as much as S400 for food and supplies. Church officials and pascola groups must be on 102 hand at the frequent household fiestas as well as at all major pueblo ceremonies. Governors likewise must present themselves at fiestas, in addition to passing most of their days around the guardia, attending to tribal affairs. In the course of a year, upwards of I50 men and women may actively fill the political and religious statuses in Potam.

Opportunity for the remainder of the pueblo to participate in

Yaqui institutions comes through attendance at fiestas and political meetings. Most household and pueblo fiestas run continuously for several days and nights, with performers breaking periodically for food and rest. Great admiration is accorded to non-participants who remain awake throughout the long, cold nights. Those who stay awake, com­ forted by tequila and companionship, are unmistakably euphoric the following morning.

Complex motives seem to underlie an individual's choice to par­ ticipate in, or simply attend, politiceil and religious fxmctions. Here

I wish to point out that the degree of participation, from active role- taking to complete non-attendance, has few ramifications for the allo­ cation of basic ethnic status. While most adult Yaquis do in fact participate to some degree in political and religious affairs, some do not. Yaqui fishermen eire noted for their abstention (Bartell 1965^

263). A smeill number of Guasimeffos are attempting to revive the cere­ monial round in the fishing village, but are having difficulty in interesting local residents in the key ritual positions; most perfor­ mers must be trucked in from the river pueblos. Moreover, attendance at the Guasimas rituals have been minimal: the few staunch tradi­ tionalists living at Guasimas prefer to attend the larger fiestas of 103

other pueblos. I questioned a renowned Potam pascola about the fisher­

men's apparent lack of interest in ceremonial participation and atten-

dsLnce. He replied that fishermen are not generally disparaged because

of this. Rather, he suggested, the fishermen "work too hard" to have

time to organize or sponsor fiestas. He remained unswayed by ray argu­

ment that the major Yaqui fiestas all occur in the slack fishing

seasons, not during the intensive shrimping months of September to

early December,

Maintenance of Secondary Attributes

To this point, I have argued that secondary attributes, with

their wide range of variability within the Yaqui population, have

little bearing on Yaqui status and the rights and duties which stem

from that status. Nevertheless, these secondary attributes are em­

ployed frequently to make assessments of an individual's ethnic iden­

tity for -the purpose of interaction between individuals, not for allo­

cation of the basic rights and duties. They may serve, in the terms of

Horowitz (1975:119)» as the "operational indicia of identity, on which

ready judgments of individual membership are made." And secondary

attributes are employed frequently by "social-others," people who have

no personal knowledge of the individual being classified. "Biographical-

others," classifying individuals they know, will more likely draw upon

the pivotal attribute of Yaqui ethnic status, an individual's geneeilogy.

V/ith individuals whose ethnic status is problematic, the clas­ sifier can be Yaqui himself, or Mexican. The attributes he employs in

classification — pivotal or secondary — depend not on his own ethnic lOif

status but on his relation to, and knowledge of, the individual to be

classified. While Yaquis stand in personEJ.-other relations to many

individuals outside their own baurrios and pueblos, they by no means

know, biographically, all other Yaquis in the Zone. They must fre­

quently rely on indicia themselves, Mexicans, by and large, less

frequently "know" individuals, and their reliance upon indicia is cor­

respondingly greater than resident Yaquis,

In short, three interconnected factors determine the informa­

tion to be employed in individual classification: (1) the purpose of

classification, whether for allocation of rights and duties, or for

day-to-day interaction of individuals; (2) the status of the classifier

vis-a-vis the individual to be classified, as a "biographical-other"

or a "social-other;" smd (3) the ethnic group membership of the classi­

fier.

Now, in the Yaqui zone, the pivotal attribute of descent serves as a poor marker of ethnic group membership. Through interbreeding and intermarriage, the range of genetic variation among Yaquis substan­ tially overlaps that of Mexicans in Sonora, This has led to the ironic, but perhaps not uncommon, situation in which secondary attritubes are better predictors of an individual's ethnic group membership than the pivotal attribute of descent. Thus a classifier, whether Yaqui or

Mexican, has a greater chance of successfully classifying specific in­ dividuals by employing secondary but firmly entailed attributes such as language use.

This situation leads to obvious and real problems in fieldwork, in eliciting the attributes of Yaqui status from various informants. 105

A specific question, "Is x a Yaqui?", may be answered in several ways.

If the informant is a social-other to the referent, and has not been

asked to definitively classify the individual for purposes of allo­

cating tribal rights and duties, he may quickly respond with an evalu­

ation of secondary attributes. A biographical-other may respond in the

same manner, drawing perhaps on his knowledge of the individual's

career of ceremonial participation. In either case (and the cases are

by no means hypothetical), the informant has responded with facility

to the ethnographer's non-discriminating questf.on, by drawing upon

readily available and easily observed attributes. The informant is,

in effect, responding to the ethnographer as he would respond to every­

day social encounters, with the most quickly available information that

allows relatively accurate classification of specific individuals.

I suspect that the ease of eliciting such information, of ob­ taining a list of secondary attributes, has led many ethnographers to confuse pivotal and non-pivotal markers of ethnic identity. Neither the frequency of response by informants, nor the emphatic nature of such responses, can serve as a discriminator of pivotal attributes of ethnic status from the secondary attributes of group membership.

Summary; Who is a Yaqui?

Viewed as a status, Yaqui ethnic identity is not something that must be or can be achieved. Contrary to Barth (1969:25), it is not associated with a specific set of performance standards. Hence, there are no "circumstances where such an identity can be moderately suc­ cessfully realized," and no "limits beyond which such success is 106

precluded." Thus, for Yaquis, there is no "comparative performance scale" by which individual ethnic status is assessed. In short, it is

easy to ^ a Yaqui and be accorded full rights and duties attendent upon that status: if you have the right psirents. At the same time, it is impossible to become a Yaqui, lacking the geneailogical ties.

Viewing ethnic identity as a status, an all-or-nothing ascrip­ tion, I leave several important questions unanswered. If rights and duties are assured simply by descent, what motivates individuals to participate, expend time and money, in the ritual and politiceQ. system?

What accounts for the abiding interest of Yaquis in these institutions?

Initially, I noted that the rights and duties of Yaqui status are not entirely reciprocal; the awsirding of land is contingent upon factors of availability and suitability, not an automatic obligation of the pueblo governors. Does greater participation and sacrifice signifi­ cantly increase an individual's chances of obtaining land or access to other resources? Can prestige be exchsinged for political power, for wealth?

Wealth, Power, and Prestige

In his classic statement on "class, status, and party," Max

V/eber defined the three modes by which power is allocated within a society. By power, Weber (19^6:l80) meant the "chsince of a man or a number of men to realize their own will in a communal action even against the resistance of others who are participating in the action."

Weber saw social power as deriving singularly or in combination, from three sources: economic wealth, social honor or prestige, and 107

political power or authority. Admitting that wealth, power, and pres­

tige may be independent avenues to enhanced social position, Weber was

primarily concerned with the empirical overlap, or convertibility, of

these three systems. He suggested a variety of possibilities.

Quite generally, 'mere economic' power, and especially 'naked' money power, is _by no mearis a recognized basis of social honor. Nor is ^olitica^ power the only basis of social honor. Indeed, social honor, or prestige, may even be the basis of political or economic power, and very frequently has been. Power, as well as honor, may be guaranteed by the legeil order, but, at least normally, it is not the primary source. The legal order ^uthoritjj^ is rather an additional factor that enhances the chance to hold power or honor; but it cannot always secure them (Weber 19'<-6:l80-l8l ^ee Hammel 1969 for an attempt to apply this scheme to Peru/To

Much of the anthropologicsQ. literature on Indian Middle America has dealt, directly or indirectly, with Weber's conjunction of wealth, power, and prestige. It has done so through the analysis of "civil- religious hierarchies," systems in which "adult males serve in a series of hierarchically arranged offices devoted to both political and cere­ monial aspects of community life" (Cancian 1967:285). The basic fea­ tures found in Indian villages throughout southern Mexico and Guatemala include

.. • rsinked offices taken for one-year terms by the men of the community. The offices are ranked in two ways: first, they are arranged in levels of service, whereby a man must serve on the first level before he is eligible for service on the second level, and so on; second, authority tends to be concentrated in the top levels, making a hierarchy of authority as well as a hierarchy of service. It is often called the "ladder" system (Cancian 1967:284),

Three other aspects of the system are common to most Indian communities.

First, all adult males participate; second, service in many of the positions imposes a heavy financial burden; and third, "prestige and 108 positions of leadership and respect are achieved through service in the hierarchy" (Cancian 1967s289).

V/hile agreeing on these basic features of the civil-religious hierarchy, observers show less consensus regarding the functions of the system, the consequences it has for community social structure.

Wolf (1955), Tax (1953)1 and Nash (1958) emphasize "equalization of economic status through the operation of the hierarchy, i.e«, the

'leveling* consequences" (Cancian 1967:290). Cancian himself stresses the "separation into multiple social statuses, i.e., the 'stratifying' consequences" (Cancian 1967:290, also I965). The egalitarian interpre­ tation rests on the fact that positions in the hierarchy are severe financial burdens on their holders. Assumption of an office thus drains the excess resources of the more wealthy families in the com­ munity, fostering socio-economic homogeneity.

The stratification complex rejects the fact of socio-economic homogeneity; according to Cancian (1967:291), "there is considerable evidence for economic differentiation" in Mexican Indian communities.

His own work in Zinacantan, central Chiapas state, led him to conclude that.

The rich obviously_spend more than the poor, both because they take more cargos positions in the hierarchjj7 and because they take more expensive individual cargos. This is leveling in some sense, but in fact the rich seem to be so rich that they do not lose their relative standing. To a statistically sig­ nificant degree, sons of men who have taken expensive cargos also take expensive cargos (Cancian 1967:292).

Thus, at best, the civil-religious hierarchy is an ineffective equsil- izer, doing little to make the community more economically homogeneous. 109

Nor, in Cancian's view, does the community necessarily become

more equalized in individual status. The civil-religious hierarchy,

in effect, appears like a pyramid, with many positions at the bottom,

few at the top. As only one man can serve in the top position each

year, demographic imbalance — too many eligible men for the number of

high-level positions open during their, lifetimes — will result in

social differentiation between those who reach top positions and those

who do not. And, on the assumption that the expensive top positions

can be afforded only by the rich, the inevitable differentiation in

prestige will be ultimately based on wealth.

In short, while the operation of leveling and stratifying

effects may be primarily a function of the demographic baQ.ance between applicants and positions in the hierarchy, the two alternative inter­ pretations agree substantially on the convertability of economic wealth into social prestige and political power deriving from occupancy of civil and religious posts. Thus, contrary to the variety of relations

between wealth, power, and prestige envisioned by VJeber, observers of

Middle American ladder systems take wealth as the primary determinant of both political power and social prestige.

Sonoran Yaquis, while sharing many of the influences of Spanish colonial society and Catholic church organization, do not possess the civil-religious hierarchy typical of Middle American Indian groups.

First, there is no well-defined ladder of social positions. Apart from the top civil and religious posts — pueblo governor, pueblo mayor, elders, chiu'ch governors and maestros — few other positions are ranked relative to one another. There is, indeed, a ranking of 110 positions within the various ceremonial societies and civil povernraent, within the five ya'uram. Yet members of particular ceremonial socie­ ties usually remain in that society for life, and do not use high rank in a particular society as a base for fixrther achievement in another ya'ura. Thus, there is no necessary alternation between religious and civil positions, no requirement that an individual take on higher re­ sponsibilities once he has successfully performed in lower positionso

Furthermore, not all positions involve a great expense to the holder. Sponsorship of a household or pueblo fiesta may indeed be costly, Eind some performers must spend minor sums for costximes and instruments. But most civil and religious positions require the ex­ penditure of time, not money. And, contrary to the pattern of civil- religious hierarchies in Middle America, Yaqui society does not demand the participation of all adults in the institutionalized positions.

As discussed in a previous section, participation is both voliintary and variable: individuals may choose the extent of their participation, and the institutions to which they devote their time and money.

Finally, the Yaqui system differs markedly from the generalized

Middle American pattern in the convertibility of wealth into power and prestige. Because most of the positions do not demand heavy expendi­ tures, it is an easy and frequent act for a poor Yaqui to achieve sub­ stantial social prestige and political power through service. And it seems equally true that a man of high prestige and respectable politi­ cal power gains very little economically: power and prestige are not directly convertible into economic wealth. Ill

These initial conclusions, summsirily stated, must now be illus­

trated by an examination of individual civil and ceremonial careers.

Analytically, there are eight possible combinations of the three vari­

ables of economic wealth (E, wealth; E, non-wealth), political power

(P, P), and social prestige (S, S); EPS, EPS, EPS, EPS, EPS, EPS,

EPS, and EPS, The conclusions of Cancian and others, writing on the

civil-religious systems of Middle America, lead us to expect a clus­

tering of individual cases around only two constellations of attributes:

EPS and the converse, EPS. In the first set, economic wealth is suc­

cessfully converted into political power and social prestige through

the mechanisms of the civil-religious office sponsorship. In the

second, initial lack of economic wealth precludes the sponsorship of

cargos, and in turn prevents attainment of social prestige and politi­

cal power.

Based on my biographical knowledge of 57 adult Yaqui males, I

found no such clustering around these two poles. Rather, individual

cases can be found to illustrate each of the eight analytical possi­

bilities, a finding which suggests little patterned inter-relations

between v/ealth, power, and prestige. I will describe individual cases

for each of these possibilities, at the same time pointing to the sub­

jective criteria I have used to evaluate the relative wealth, power

and prestige of the individuals under consideration.

EPS: Mairio Alvarez lives on a rancho about two kilometers outside

the pueblo of Potam, near the dried bed of the Rio Yaqui. Now

approaching 60, he resides with his wife and sons and their families.

By no means rich, he nevertheless has substsmticLl wealth tied up in 112 cattle, grazing along the river bed, and an old, occasionally- functioning stake-bed truck. He lives too far from existing irrigation canals to farm, but he and his sons obtain the cash necessary to pur­ chase food through periodic sales of cattle. And, being in the raonte, he has easy access to firewood, thus avoiding the nagging expense of buying wood that is incurred by town-dwellers.

In the past, Mario has held important ritual positions, serving as a fiestero for the pueblo fiesta of Santisima Tiniran as well as a member of the Kabayam. He continues to take an active interest in cere­ monies, attending many household fiestas and continuously on the scene during Semana Santa. He has served as pueblo governor of Potam, and frequently is sought out by present officials for advice. During the boundary negotiations of 1975» Mario was actively involved in the strategy sessions of the Yaqui officials while seldom missing a chance to attend meetings with Mexican representatives.

While Mario's social prestige and political power complement each other, his economic wealth appears to be derived independent of power and prestige. Based on cattle ranching in the sparsely-populated and non-arable monte, not on the farming of prime irrigated land, his wealth could not have been enhanced by favoritism while he served as pueblo governor. Undoubtedly, though, his wealth has to some extent contributed to his relatively high social prestige and political power.

It has been sufficient to allow him to serve as fiestero, where the major expense is the provision of food for ceremonial meeils. And, once his year as governor has ended, Mario's wealth assured that he would be frequently asked for small donations to the governors' 113

operationeQ. expenses, giving him the opportunity to consult and par­

ticipate in political raaneuverings.

EPS: Pablo Garcia, aged about typifies a small number of adult

Yaquis who are both economically well-off and socially prestigious,

but who take little active interest in political affairs, and make no

visible effort to convert weailth or prestige into political power.

His wealth is only moderate — he owns no vehicle, nor a house of adobe, yet he manages to adequately feed a large family group which

includes his wife, her mother, his daughter with husband and child,

and his son, also with a spouse. The household gets income from sev­ eral sources. Pablo himself is a member of a well-managed and suc­ cessful agricultural sociedad, farming about 30 hectares of wheat on good Icinds near Potam, All members of the sociedad appear conscien­ tious, and the group regularly produces a good crop. In addition,

Pablo farms about five hectares of beans and vegetables, financing this operation with his share of the sociedad's profits. The labor composition of the household contributes substantially to the success of this private venture. His grown sons and Pablo's own industrious wife carry out much of the farming operations. And his freedom to grow subsistence crops on his own field reduces the amount of food purchases in the market.

Encouraged by his devout wife and mother-in-law, Garcia has recently undertaken the expensive sponsorship of the Santisima Tiniran fiesta. Prior to this sponsorship, he showed little activity in ritual roles, but was nevertheless a frequent and interested spectator at most pueblo fiestas and the household fiestas of his friends and acquaintances in Potam. His recently activated desire to participate through fiesta sponsorship suggests that prior economic well-being may be converted into socieLL prestige through ritual participation. He may attempt, in sequence, to convert his social prestige into political influence and civil office, but as yet he has shown little interest in

Yaqui politics. He is already past the age when most Yaqui men demon­ strate a desire to be involved in the political affairs of the pueblo.

EPS: A fisherman from Guasimas, Filipe Choqui is both wealthy and politically powerful in the shrimp cooperative. But he has neither desired nor achieved social prestige through active participation in ceremony. Still a young mem in his mid-30s, Filipe is an energetic and successful fisherman, factors which contributed substantially to his election as coop president. He has been equally energetic as an ad­ ministrator with an informal control exercised over all phases of the coop's operations. Employing a casual yet authoritative style, he seems to be adroit at handling finainces while preserving a necesssury degree of loyalty among fishermen to the coop. And, through his ex­ perience in dealing with Mexican administrators, Filipe is frequently called upon for advice by pueblo governors.

Filipe's modest wealth, evidenced in his cinderblock house in

Guasimas, filled with more than an average number of electrical appli­ ances, is undoubtedly both a cause amd a consequence of his adminis­ trative position. His success as a shrimper assvired him a respectable income smd, as mentioned above, made him an attractive candidate for the coop presidency. Subsequently, the perquisites of office — a good salary, access to emergency loans from the coop treasury, use of 115 the coop pick-up truck (which allows him to transport groceries from the cheaper stores in Guaymas to his home in Guasimas) — have bol­ stered his economic position.

Felipe makes little more than pro forma appearances at re­ ligious occasions. He paid an official and brief visit to Potam's

Semcina Santa proceedings to present a small donation from the coop to

Potam governors for ceremonial expenses. Outside of his official capacity, he expresses no interest in the social prestige obtainable through religious participation. His political influence is not diminished by his lack of ritual interest, however.

E^: Lucio Valdez, like Mario Alvarez, lives with his large family outside town. He is a successful particular ("private farmer") financ­ ing his own crops with profits from previous harvests and the occasion­ al sale of cattle and pigs. While he lives in a traditional-style house, he has all the trappings of relative wealth: an old stake truck, a battery-operated record player (on which, when it is working,

Lucio plays recorded Yaqui ritual music), and a well-supplied kitchen.

His economic success derives from his accumulation of excellent farm land near irrigation canals and from the labor power of his household: he can draw upon the aid of his two sons and two sons-in-law living in adjacent houses. He began working his well-situated lands before in­ creased demand of recent years made land acquisition difficult.

Lucio is not an active participant in either political or religious affairs. During the 1975 negotiations between pueblo gover­ nors and Mexican officials over the tribal boundaries, he attended several political gatherings, but remained on the periphery, neither Il6

sought out nor offei*inpadvice. He attends pueblo fiestas, but to my

knowledge he has not filled any ritual roles except for a brief and

appeu'ently unsuccessful stint as pascola in his youth. At the recent

death of a compadre, Lucio performed his funeral obligations perfunc­

torily and became an object of disparaging gossip. He has a well-

earned reputation as a drinker; on numerous occasions during my field

work, he drank heavily for three- or four-day stretches, spending and

losing sizable portions of his harvest profits. In short, Lucio has

converted his wealth into neither political power nor social prestige.

EPS; Martin Molina, in his early 40s, provides an explicit con­

trast to Lucio Valdez, demonstrating at the seune time that economic wesilth is neither necessary for, nor a direct consequence of, political

power and social prestige. Martin is poor, and his family in Potam seldom appears adequately fed. His teen-aged daughter suffered acutely

from bronchial pneumonia while I was in the field, and her condition was worsened by msilnutrition. Prior to obtaining a small plot of land and planting an initial c^tamo crop in 1975» Martin had pursued an unre­ warding series of odd jobs: tending livestock for others, occasionally working as a carbonero (charcoal maker) in the monte around Potam.

His major interest, his major expenditure of energy, is in his pascola dancing. He is currently the most popular and sought-after pascola in Potam. He is known by reputation throughout the Yaqui Zone as one of oiily two or three exceptionally talented performers. While not lucrative, his heavy schedule of ritual performances brings in some cash to his household, and the floirr, salt, sugar, coffee and 117 meat Riven to performers at the conclusion of household fiestas provide welcome additions to the family's food supplies.

Highly respected as a ritual specialist, Martin has 8ilso served well as an assistant to the Potam governor. The demands of his pascola skills seem to prevent him from taking more powerful civil positions, but he is still carefully heeded when he speaks at political meetings.

Martin seems, in short, to be one of only a handful of Yaquis entirely beyond reproach, never the object of gossip.

EPS: Miguel Leyva typifies a nxanber of Yaquis who have gained high social prestige through their active involvement in ritual, but who have little or no political influence and remain poor. Now in his

70b, Miguel has pursued a long career as a talented tampalero for the pascolas and deer dancers of Potam. He is highly respected for his skills and ritual knowledge, but outside of his specialty, he is looked upon as somewhat of a buffoon, a constant object of entertaining gossip about his unsuccessful love affairs and his parasitical living arrange­ ments with his daughter. He has been poor throughout his live and now, as a part-time cattle herder, is renewing his reputation for being unreliable. Miguel's low economic and political standing contrasts starkly with the rapt attention he commands when seated with his tambora and flauta.

EPS: Adult Yaquis of this category are rare, smd the one case with which I am most familiar may in fact be trainsitional. Lorenzo Gonzalez, still in his mid-30s, has been relatively wealthy in the immediate past when he was a successful fisherman and coop official. He spent much of his savings on an adobe house in Potam as he retired from fishing in 118

the face of allegations of financial misdealings while he was serving

as treasurer. After several years of virtual unemployment, he has only

recently beg^n to farm a 10-hectare plot of land borrowed from an in­

active sociedad and financed by a patron from Estacion Vicam. If the

parcel becomes productive, he may again achieve some degree of wealth.

Lorenzo's relative stsinding on the dimensions of political

power and sociail prestige is more easily evaluated. He has been

actively involved in the Yaqui boundary dispute, where his experience

in dealing with Mexican officials, gained while Lorenzo was a shrimp coop officer, has proved useful. Indeed, his politicsil influence v/ith­ in Potam has risen steadily since he returned from the fishing villages: he has been selected as pueblo governor, an honor and burdensome duty which he initially turned down, citing his lack of experience and the time-consuming demands of his new agricultural venture.

Outside the political arena, Lorenzo has shown virtual disdain for Yaqui ceremonialism. As a young man he promised himself to serve as a matachine for three years, but dropped out of the dance society

because he felt uncomfortable, "too tall," Since then, he has not in­ volved himself in any ritual duties of note, and has dispatched his duties as compadre at weddings and funerals with little enthusiasm.

V/hile the relationship in this case between wealth and politi­ cal power is somewhat ambiguous, Lorenzo clearly represents a disjunc­ tion between power and social prestige; still a relatively young man, he is one of the more influential politicos in Potam, yet gives no indication of desiring the social prestige attendant upon ritual par­ ticipation. 139

KPS: Miguel Garcia, son-in-law of Pablo Garcia, is marginal in elLI respects. In his mid-20s, he has been a shrimp fisherman for about five years, but never very successful. He hais also worked periodically on the labor crews refurbishing the canals siround Potam, but was unable to save any money. Nor has he taken £iny active interest in ceremonial participation; at best, he attends major fiestas only briefly. Match­ ing his lack of interest in religious offices is his non-participation in political affairs. On occasion, he shows up at gatherings called to discuss business of the fishing coop, but never seeks to voice his opinions.

Miguel's lack of political power and socisil prestige may re­ flect his young age. More likely, given his apparent disinterest in politics and religion, along with his dominating shyness in any social interaction, he will never strive to enhance his position as he grows older.

The preceding cases, then, suggest a wide range of variability in the social positions of individual Yaquis. Some, like Mario

Alvarez, have successfully achieved a high social prestige, great political power, and a modest but relatively substantial income.

Others, like Miguel Garcia, have achieved none of these, but, paren­ thetically, have not jeopsu^dized their ethnic group membership. The analysis can be pursued a little farther: of the 58 individuals I was able to classify with some confidence, the following distribution was discovered (Table 4). 120

Table Variations in wealth, power, eind social prestige.

EPS 11 EPS 5 I?S 2 EPS 9 EPS* 7 H'S 3 EPS 12 Ws 9 N == 58

The sample here is by no means random. The 58 cases represent my friends and acquaintances, drawn mostly from Potom, Lobos, Rahum, and

Guasimas, but including several from the pueblos of Belem, Huirivis,

Vicam, and Torim. In effect, they are individuals whom I knew bio- graphically. Although I do not feel that my procedwes for gaining acquaintances drastically skew the sample, I have no sound basis for claiming representativeness of the 58 cases.

V.'ith these cautionary notes in mind, some observation may still be made. In over 3% of the cases ( EPS, EPS, EPS, and EPS), there is no correspondence between political power and social prestige. The remaining cases, over do shov; such correspondence between power and prestige (achieving both or lacking both). This suggests, not un­ ambiguously, a relatively strong conjunction between power and pres­ tige: regardless of wealth, power and prestige go hand in hand in the majority of cases. Fxarthermore, regarding the convertibility of wealth into power and prestige as suggested by Cancian, almost an equal number of Yaquis fall into two cases, EPS and EPS. Contrary to Cancian's findings for southern Mexico, then, power and prestige appear to vary relatively independently of economic wealth in Yaqui society. 121

With this separation in wealth, power, and prestige, and the resulting range of variation among individuals, it is risky to make summary statements about underlying motivationso At best, such a sum­ mary must be phrased largely in negative terms: individuals are not motivated to participate in political and religious affairs by an application of strong sanctionso Nor do they participate in the hope of gaining substantial economic reward. Beyond this, it may be pos­ sible, but equally risky, to posit an underlying motivation for recog­ nition of "individuation:" to be marked off from the rest. But this is hardly an all-consuming drive, Miguel Garcia would be extraordi­ narily uncomfortable to be singled out; Lorenzo felt a similar embar­ rassment to be on stage as a matachine dancer. More importantly, how­ ever, those who strive for recognition do so within separate realms of power: some are economic successes, some noted politicians, and others are feuned ritual specialists. As distinct paths to social individua­ tion, only loosely tied to one another, the realms of wealth, power, and prestige offer numerous outlets for individual strivings. And many

Yaquis feel just as content to ignore all three routes to local esteem.

Ritual as Performance

Social prestige accrues to those who participate in Yaqui rit­ ual. But social prestige is neither a necessary cause nor consequence of economic wealth or political power. And ethnic status may be vali­ dated through ritual participation, but participation as such does not turn non-Yaquis into Yaquis. Nor does non-participation turn Yaquis into non-Yaquis. 122

These conclusions, reached in previous sections of this chap­

ter, reflect only one way of looking at ethnicity: as a categorization

or placement of individuals into discrete ethnic groups. These con­

clusions reflect, as well, only one way of looking at ritual: as a

more-or-less closely entailed attribute of individual ethnic identi­

fication. We may also examine ritual as symbolic action, carried out

with an orientation "toward creating beautiful or stimulating form and

expressing emotions, moral ideals, or conceptions of reality"(Peacock

1968:25^). Symbolic action is analytically distinct from "technical"

or "social" action, behavior designed to achieve economic, political,

or social ends. Thus, as Peacock observes of Javanese proletarian

drama,

If ludruk depicts peasants sowing their seeds or a family re­ solving its conflicts, that is not the same as real peasants striving to sow their seeds (striving to achieve an empirical economic end) or a real family striving to resolve its con­ flicts (striving to achieve an empiriced social end). The ludruk actors are not really struggling to make crops grow on stage or to resolve a quarrel among themselves; their main concern is to entertain (to create stimulating form), to por­ tray a conception of reality (a conception of the nature of peasants or families or human existence), to express emotions, and perhaps to make a moral point (Peacock 1968:235)•

To most anthropologists, the distinction between symbolic and

technical action is only preliminary to the more interesting and im­

portant empirical problem: the tracing of reciprocal relations between

symbolic and empirical acts. Weber, for exsunple, pursued the connec­

tion between Calvinism and capitalism; many social scientists since

Weber have set the discovery of such linkages as their primary tasks

(see Duncan 1962; V. Turner 1969; Geertz 1973; Burke 1973? Moore and

Myerhoff 1975; Cohen 197'+)• But proponents of a symbolic action 123 perspective seem to be polarizing, still tentatively, around two em­ phases, one on the content of symbols, the other on the form of sym­ bolic action. Peacock sees the former emphasis as stemming strongly from Leach's (196^) analysis of "Myth as a Justification for Factions and Social Chsinge," in Political Systems of Highland Burma. Symbolic actions are, essentially, validators.

When one is concerned to show that symbolic performances are statements, oral equivalents of legal documents, which vali­ date institutional or personal claims, one naturally places emphasis on the content of the performances—what they state; thus. Leach does not deal with the form of Kachin myths, ex­ cept to note briefly how each is divided into sections. He confines himself to showing how the myths are statements about genealogical relations among certain kinsmen, spirits, and ancestors, each statement being cited by a particular clan to vEilidate its claims to superior status (Peacock 1968:2'+5)*

For Leach and others inclined toward content analysis, the "connector" between symbolic and social or technical action is primairily cognitive.

To effectively translate symbols into behavior, actors must reach an under':^'"•'nding of those symbols, of the relationships between symbols, of the interpenetration of one symbolic realm into another. These can be heavy demands, positing an articulateness, an "exegetic dimension"

(V. Turner 1969:11) which may be absent among the populace of many societies. Barth, for example, was led to the discovery that the

Baktaman of New Guinea have no exegetical tradition. But the discovery came only after a carefully subdued field methodology, relying on observations of spontaneous, unelicited actions as well as "Baktamsm questions and explanations to each other." Somewhat surprised at the finding, Barth was also

...struck by the lack of factual comparative evidence in the ajithropological literature on the presence and degree of development of native exegetical tradition and praxis; and without the careful restraint I practised, I might not have recorded its absence. As social relations in the field deepened, it would not have been difficult to obtain native help in ray efforts to understand; to make them systematize and translate verbally in response to m^ need for system and verbal codification. My strong suspicion is that the bodies of native explanation that we find in anthropological litera­ ture are often created as an artefact of the anthropologist's activity (Barth 19755 226).

Ansdysis of form demands a different but equally precarious methodology, for the "connector" between symbolic form and social action is emotional, not cognitive. Thus Peacock (1968:6), in his study of proletarian plays, seeks to understand how dramatical form

"seduces ludruk participants into empathy with modes of social action involved in the modernization process." He concludes, tentatively, that newer forms of the ludruk,

...are more action-inciting than are older forms. As the older ludruk performances finish, they return to a state of equilibrium that they enjoyed at their beginning. The last scene is structurally similar to the first, aind is calm like the first, and when the ludruk is over, spectators get up and go home uttering remarks such as "Now the situation is again secure and calm." The newer performances, by contrast, hav­ ing carried spectators throu^ a two to five hour series of buildups and relatively sustained empathy with a plot, finish with an action that is unfinished. ... Hence, participants in the new ludruk must leave the theater before they have finished the narrative action in which they have been clutched for hows. Perhaps this pattern incites within them a drive to finish outside the theater that which they could not inside, an itch to consummate in reality what they could not in fantasy (Peacock 1969:172)o

The methodological problems have yet to be resolved; "Overt audience reactions are easy enough to record, but audiences do not necessarily scream out what is going on deep inside them" (Peacock

1969:171). But the lines of research are clear and, I think, impec­ cable: the "dramatistic" approach, the analysis of form, ...treats behaviors as if they were orgajiized "aestheti­ cally" as in a play that arranges its scenes poetically and climactically to evoke appreciative and cathartic responses from an audience. The task of the investigator is to show how forms, climaxes, settings, focus around evoking such response from some audience (Peacock 1969:17^).

Yaqui religious ceremony is eminently open to dramaturgical

analysis: rituals along the Rio Yaqui are elaborately staged, com­

plexly organized sequences of folk Catholic pageantry, involving a

large number of differentiated ceremonial roles and performances, an

expansive use of space, and a ciuriously shifting pattern of audience

exclusion and contact, even integration, with performers. Yaqui rit­

uals are, likewise, well suited to the maintenance and frequent commimi-

cation of strict ethnic boundaries between Yaqui and Mexican. They are

staged on Yaqui land, conducted by Yaqui specialists, infused with

Yaqui meanings.

Yet this potential is under-utilized. Yaqui rituals, so cul­

turally distinctive, are predominantly "front regions," (Goffman 1959:

106ff), settings and events for the open intermingling of Yaqui and

Mexican. It is this paradox — Yaqui rituals are staunchly Yaqui, yet

unabashedly public, non-compartmentalized — which a dramatistic out­ look on Yaqui ritual form can illuminate.

Audience, Space, and Time

On several ceremonial occasions, I heard variations of an in­ sightful but unexplained claim, "The fiestas in Potam are carried out well, aren't they?" The Yaqui religious fiestas in Potam are indeed recognized as standards for the rest of the zone, as the most elaborate, exciting, and reverent rituals. On the surface, the claim is not 126

surprising. Potam is the largest of the river towns, and has a larger

pool of ritual performers to draw upon. The expense and time of ritual

sponsorship and performance can be spread around, easing the burden on

each individual. And, potentially, more individuals can take up roles

in the expandable ritual segments. More chapayekam can "come out"

during the successive Fridays of Lent, increasing their ntimbers week

by week until the climatic events of Semana Santa.

Yet Potam dresses fewer chapayekam, in proportion to its size,

than the other pueblos. And the individual burdens in smaller towns

are relieved by corporeal loans from Potam. Potenos frequently assume

ceremonial roles in other pueblos where they maintain kinship, compadre,

and residentisil ties. Musicians, pascolas and deer dancers from Potam

perform in other pueblos; specialists outside Potam are just as likely

to be found hosting fiestas in Potam. The success of Potam fiestas,

then, does not seem to be a simple reflection of the town's size, nor

the town's possession of skilled, popular performers.

Nor is Potam the most "traditional," the most restricted or

closed, of Yaqui settlements. It is, in fact, the most infiltrated by

Mexicans, save for the railroad service center of Estacion Vicam.

Potam possesses the trappings of modern Mexico: electricity and street lighting, a clinic, a private doctor, an office of the Mexican police,

a federal agricultural school, many stores and, until recently, can-

tinas, and a decrepit pool hall, objects of attack by the locally-run

if poorly-attended chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous. Finally, Potam has

a large resident population of Mexicans. Few of the other river towns

boast all, or any, of these penetrations of national society. 127

Yaqui ritual is public; Potam is infiltrated by Mexicans and

Mexicanisms. But ritual in Potam is "put on well," as the Yaquis claim. It is the standard against which the rituals of other towns frequently do not match up. To understand this, we need to comprehend the nature of the audience, the nature of space, and the nature of time in Yaqui ceremony,

A fusion of aboriginal elements and Catholicism (Spicer 195^»

1958), Yaqui religion is nevertheless explicitly "universalistic." It concerns itself, in Robert Bellah's (196^:366) terms, with the fact that, "man is no longer defined chiefly in terms of what tribe or clan he comes from or \irhat particular god he serves but rather as a being capable of salvation." But its universalism is of a slightly different nature from that envisioned by Bellah. Yaquis have altered and local­ ized the standard Catholic beliefs. As Spicer (195^:118) recounts, the Lord,

, .. came into the Yaqui country long before the Spaniards arrived, coming from the west out of the country of salt flats and desert beyond Belem. He began to go from village to vil­ lage, and wherever He went He cured people. Because He was so successful in this people called Him Salvador Maestro (The Savior Teacher).

The Lord, then, is more a healer than an ultimate adjudicator of individual salvation. As a healer, he was apparently indiscrimi­ nate: informants now say that He takes care of Mexicans as well as

Yaquis. Hence, Mexicans, and all non-Yaquis, can benefit from the penance displayed by Yaquis in ceremonial efforts.

And there are reciprocal benefits of a large audience. Ob­ servers validate the pious efforts of the ceremonial sponsors and hosts. 128

The human beings without vows to ceremonial labor who come to the event are important because the fulfillment of obligations should be publicly witnessed and hence the bigger the crowd the better the fiesta. It is a focus of Yaqui interest to make the event attractive and to provide for those who are attracted (Spicer 195^sl82)»

This belief, reiterated by my own informants, underlies my

claims earlier in this chapter that mere attendance at Yaqui fiestas

is a respectable mode of demonstrating adherence to Yaqui custom (see

Spicer 19^k:177y 178). There is frequent and meaningful use of the

verb, amanecer, in connection with prolonged Yaqui ceremonies. The

word has the connotation of staying for the duration of the fiesta,

throughout long, cold nights of often repetitiously uneventful ritual acts. Night-long attenders are invariably exhausted the following morning, and frequently drunk and hung-over, but unmistakedly euphoric.

Conversely, those who habitually put in nothing but a brief appearance

(and meiny do just this, both Mexican and Yaqui), a token demonstration of their interest, are somewhat suspect.

Yaqui rituals are expressly designed to attract an audience.

Pascolas act as ceremonial hosts and ribald entertainers at most house­ hold and pueblo fiestas. Their role as crowd-pleasers has long been recognized by anthropologists (Spicer 19^:l8't-lB7; 195^:76), and my observations confirm this function. Upcoming fiestas are the subject of much conversation and anticipation, and the merits of individual pascola performers are in many cases central to the decision to attend or ignore the fiesta. A good pascola team, glib in speech and quick and skilled in movement, can easily enthrall an audience.

In its universalism, its explicit promise of sacred benefit to performer and viewer, eind its orientation around the pascola as host. 129

Yaqui ritual demands and recruits an audience. This audience is bi- ethnic. Mexicans from Potara, from other pueblos and communities on the

Rio Yaqui, and from major Sonoran cities, come to Yaqui fiestas as interested observers. The dates of calendrical fiestas are well known to Catholic Mexicans, and the times of movable celebrations are easily obtained. And, to the Mexican residents of the Yaqui pueblos, the times and locations of household fiestas are common knowledge, picked up by storekeepers who sell ritual goods to ceremonial sponsors. V/hile

Yaquis maice no attempt to advertise upcoming rituals across ethnic lines, no attempt is made either to disguise their occurrance, to "com­ partmentalize" ceremonies.

Even when Mexican neighbors have no desire to attend Yaqui fiestas, they cannot avoid them: Yaqui ritual is expansive, intruding noisily and forcefully into main pueblo streets and paths, into whole neighborhoods. Residentieilly, Potam is incompletely segregated, with the majority of Mexicans living within a couple of blocks of the cen­ tral street and the remainder living interspersed with Yaquis in modi­ fied grid pattern around the center. With fireworks, dancing, and the continuous droning of musicians, Yaqui household fiestas inevitably announce themselves to neighboring Yaquis and neighboring Mexicans.

Household fiestas also tend to fill and encompass available space: there appear to be no regularized restrictions on the distance between the pascola-santo ramada and the cross to which processions travel throughout the ceremonies. If unobstructed by houses, brush, or canals, the procession grounds may extend several hundred feet, monopo- lyzing streets, adjacent house compound yards, and open spaces. 130

Expansiveness is even more evident in Estacion Vicam, the

service town dominated by Mexicans but the residence also of many

ritual specialists and politicians of Vicam pueblo. Rituals in en-

claved Yaqui households intrude into siurounding Mexican residential

clusters, communicating to Mexican residents both the intensity and

persistence of Yaqui ritual, as well as a certain arrogance of power- lessness. Yaquis have no qualms about using Mexican space in a Mexi­

can town for their own ceremonial displays.

The temporal dimension of Yaqui ritual has equally important implications for the symbolic communication of ethnicity. Public per­ formances at household fiestas — of pascolas, venados (deer dancers), matachines, maestros, cantoras, and the santos — run throughout the night. And in the culminating days of Semana Santa, the ritual manipu­ lations of santos, the kontis (processions), and chapayekam activities likewise are continuous. But audiences rapidly dwindle late at night and into the cold hours before dawn. Hardened Yaqui fiesta-goers may remain, but virtually no Mexicans. During these hours, the publicness of the ritual is fortuitously altered; the opportunity exists, by virtue of the absence of Mexican observers, to present non-public, com­ partmentalized ceremony. At a memorial service (cumpleano) for a deceased Yaqui resistance leader, the Coyote Dance was conducted during these hours, without Mexicsm onlookers. V/hile I heard no comment by

Yaqui officials that the Coyote Dance is properly a non-public, "back- region" display, the dance itself is surprisingly incongruous to the staid and stoic appearance of the sponsoring Military Society in its 131 other ritual functions. The Coyote Dance is, seemingly, a licensed frivolity by an otherwise humorless ya'ura.

Performed first by two groups of novices, in their teens and unskilled, the dance was nevertheless the center of attraction. As dawn broke, another group of three, ranging in age from the mid-206 to around 50» began to perform. Accompanied by a drummer seated on a hide blanket, the three lined up facing an earthen bowl of dried meat.

Shuffling back and forth between the bowl and the drummer, each dancer continuously rapped a short beater against a bow with arrows, held at the crotch, between the legs. Imitating coyote movements with his head, the center dancer stooped to pick up the meat in his mouth. He then deposited it on the drummer's blanket, pantomiming excretion on the drummer. He then tidied up his work — drummer, meat, excrement

— with sand, in clear canine fashion. This sequence was then repeated by the remaining two dancers.

Throughout the dances, by the experienced group at dawn and earlier by the novices, the reaction of the audience was one of re­ strained, somewhat embarrassed laughter, different from the generally unrestrained enjoyment of the pascola antics. I found myself, as an outsider, being eyed a little nervously by the Vicam governors, and I was at several points asked for ray reactions to the dance. The ques­ tioning differed msu'kedly from what I was exposed to at other rituals.

It was not rhetorical, not the usual inquiry that allows only one answer — sincere agreement about the profundity, the impressiveness of the ceremonies. Rather, the questions surrounding the Coyote Dance 132 were fact-finding probes, attempts to test out ray real reactions to aji exposure of non-public ritual*

If the temporal progression of Yaqui ritual generates "back regions," it also allows for covert participation by professed non- participants, by conspicuously marginal Yaquis. Chamacos, as a group,

Eire marginal to mainstream Yaqui interests. As teenagers, they have not yet reached the age of choosing a working career, either in Yaqui farming, fishing, and cattle, or as wage workers in Mexican towns#

They have not reached a stage of ceremonial or political responsibility.

And, through schooling, they have come into close association vdth a peer group of modernizing, fad-oriented Mexican youths. To many Yaqui teenagers, ostentatious ritual participation is an embarrassment, even negatively sanctioned by their Mexican and Yaqui peers.

Darkness offers a cover for these marginal youths. This is evident at household fiestas, where chamacos often form the core of all-ni^t vigils. The accepted drinking, the pascola entertainment, and the camaraderie all provide attractions to teenagers, more attrac­ tive than the religiosity of the maestros and cantoras. But these motivations for attendance are accepted; the judgment is not of one's devotion, but of one's willingness to stay all night.

Chamaco participation is also manifest in the pueblo fiestas of Semana Santa. Throughout the day of Good Friday, ceremonies steadily build to the climax of Sabado de Gloria. The Crucifixion is portrayed on Friday morning by a konti around the Way of the Cross,

Subsequently, during the day, additional kontis proceed around the chtirch, marking other events of the Passion. From roughly 9:30 p.m. 133

to 3:00 a.m. Satiirday, a series of poorly heralded, hastily assembled

kontis takes place, representing the Resurrection. While most families

have stationed themselves inside the church for the night, chamacos

remain actively interested in the chapayekam burlesque outside. Osten­

sibly just hanging around, these chamacos mobilize at a moment's notice

for the kontis, with little urging from the chapayekam. On the Way,

the teenagers perform the devout ceremonial labor of bearing the santos.

The situation is striking, in its complete inversion of the usual

chamaco behavior. The teenagers eagerly besir the images, unselfishly

trading off with one another so that all may participate.

Audience, space, and time in Yaqui ritual are key dramatic elements. Ceremony is public, and the entertainment of the pascolas draws the requisite crowds, Yaqui and Mexicans, for a successful fiesta.

At the same time, though, the temporal diiration of rituals provides a fortuitous compartmentalization, allowing individuals to perform and participate without the apparent embarrassment of being in full public view.

Sanctions and Incitement; Boundary Maintenance and Stereotypy

Captivating a bi-ethnic audience, Yaqui ritual would seem a very effective vehicle for the communication of ethnic identity and the forceful demonstration of tribal cohesiveness and distinctiveness.

Indeed, boundaries are maintained and fostered through ritual, but in somewhat devious ways. 13^

Peacock (1968:2^3) speaks of the Javanese ludruk as limited

in its direct organizing power.

Ludruk, unlike speeches in a party cell or sermons in a sect, is not tightly bound to an organization with sanctioning powers: that is, commercial ludruk performers and their audiences do not form a corporate group such that ludruk can apply sanctions if its audiences do not act as ludruk tells them to act.

Yaqui ritual, in this regard, has something in common with the party cell and the sermons of the sect. Yaqui ceremonial sponsors, perfor­ mers and the Yaqui audiences do form a corporate body; performers do tell their Yaqui audiences how to act and how not to; and there are sanctions for those who transgress the accepted limits of behavior during rituals and during ceremonial seasons. This is most evident in Semana Santa, at the close of the long Lenten season, V/aresma, as

Spicer (195^:15'+) has succinctly observed,

...is a sad time, a hard time, a time of penance for every­ one. There is a definite effort on the part of the Kohtumbrem leaders to create among not only their own numbers but also among the people at large a sense of oppression. They give the impression in their ritual activities of disciplined, pur­ poseful £ind unrelenting devotion to duty. Young men frequently express fear of what will be done to them if they do not follow a request of the Kohtumbrem or if they neglect ceremonial duties or proper behavior during the period.

And the limits of proper behavior are well-defined during the ritual climaxes of Holy V/eek. Men must not drink, nor work in their fields. V/omen must not wash clothes, nor sew. And families may not eat meat. Recently, too, baseball has been prohibited on the llano, the great open space in front of the church in Potam. The konti bo'o.

Way of the Cross, cuts through center field.

Infractions are handled by the chapayekam, who at irregular intervals, in small groups, unmasked but with a silk kerchief tied 135

over their heads and eyes, proceed through the village streets search­

ing for transgressors. They no longer use the stocks and whipping

post; they place violators in the carcel attached to the guardia. The

most serious taboo seems to be against drinking. And the most frequent

violators of Lenten restrictions are the inveterate drunks. Escorted

to the jail by chapayekam, drunks must spend the night and pay a fine of 50 pesos. Throughout the nights of Semana Santa, the rituals on the llano are punctuated by the falsetto choruses of prisoners from the jail, a hundred yards away.

Yaqui reactions to the drinking and the taboo are varied, A former chapayeka, cabo, and matachine, himself a frequent drinker but entirely sober up to Sabado de Gloria, remarked that the violators had no respect for religion. Others seemed to enjoy the comic humor in the juxtaposition of jail-house chorus and church ritual. And my landlady, not publicly reverent and somewhat of a jokester, suggested that drink­ ing during Semana Santa wasn't all that bad; you got a front-row seat for the kontis as they passed by the guardia.

Apart from drinking and baseball, the taboos of Lent appear now to be honored mainly in the breech. Transgressions observed by others or performed by oneself will elicit comment, but little penance.

My landlady, again, got up very early one morning of Semana Santa to do her wash — she had failed to do it earlier in the week because she was madly trying to finish her new clothes, sewing late into the night.

She explained her industrious washing behavior at dawn as auti attempt to avoid the prowling chapayekam. The explanation was not very satis­ factory, either to her or myself; she knew that chapayekam do not 136 wait until mid-morning to walk through the pueblo. And she was fully- aware that a week's wash hung to dry on the mesquite tree in her yard, would quickly expose her transgression should the chapayekam care.

That the application of sanctions is in many cases haphazard does not diminish the sailiency of the taboos. Most Yaquis recognize the Existence of the restrictions. They simply choose to ignore them if they have good reason to do so: dirty laundry, unfinished Easter dress, weeds to be pulled. More importantly, though, lack of enforce­ ment does not seem to reduce the appearance of corporateness to out­ siders, Mexican residents of the Yaqui towns. Yoris in Potam view the incarcerations of drunks as strict enforcement of religious pro­ hibitions. And they view the policing rounds of the Kohtxambrem as evidence of the oppression and discipline of Waresma. Occasionally

I heard explicit statements about the seeming unity of the pueblo during Semana Santa and of the submission of all Yaquis to the cere­ monial rule of the chapayekam, pilatos, and cabos.

We can return for a moment to Leach, the protagonist for

Peacock's position on drsunaturgy. Myth and ritual are. Leach claims, charters for society. But they are not, necessarily, reflections of long-term solidarity and integration of social groups.

If then we accept the Durkheimian view that religious rituals are representations of the solidarity of the participating group, we need clearly to understand that the solidarity need exist only at the moment at which the ritual takes place; we cannot infer a continuing latent solidarity after the ritual celebrations are over (Leach 196^:281).

The tribal solidarity that seems manifest in Yaqui ritual may, like that in highland Burma, be only temporary. And even then, solidarity 137

may be only apparent: obvious to the Mexican audience who, overesti­

mating the enforcement of Lenten taboos, see a drama of the trappings,

not the substance, of corporate strength.

This inference highlights the crucial question of cultural

performances, what Peacock calls seduction or incitement to action.

In contrast to the demonstrated action-inducement of Javanese ludruk,

James Boon (1973j20) raises the other possibility.

...often, perhaps usually, the effects of performances, v/hile intense at the time and place of their production, fade with disconcerting celerity as soon as the participants leave the "theatre." The forms seem of little direct consequence in subsequent general action.

Here I can do little more than phrase the issue in local terms. To what extent is the image of corporateness carried over into day-to-day life, to everyday encounters between Mexican and Yaqui? To what ex­ tent is the Mexican stereotype of the Yaqui-as-religious fanatic

(Spicer 195'<-!l75) implicated in social, political, and economic inter­ action across ethnic lines? These questions cannot be answered on the evidence of this chapter. They form the basis, though, for the next several chapters. CHAPTER 5

SAH IGNACIO, RIO MUERTO

At dawn on Thursday, the 23rd of October, 1975» Sonora's judicial police moved out onto the irrigated fields of Block 717» 10 kilometers from the small town of San Ignacio, Rio Muerto in the Yaqui

Valley, Accompanying Lieutenant Colonel Francisco Arellano Noblecia's

.judiciales were contingents of urban police from Guaymas, Obregon, and

Empalme, supported by the automatic rifles and well-disciplined forces of the l8th Regimiento de Caballeria, the Mexican army. Unarmed,

Arellano Noblecxa bore two court orders issued the night before by a judge in Guaymas, at the request of Sr. Dengel Kuel, proprietor of the

400 hectares of Block 717* One order demanded the peaceful evacuation of the 300 campesinos who had invaded the land and set up a camp early

Monday morning under cover of darkness. The second order called for the detention of the principal leaders of the squatters; Jucin de Dios

Teran, Jose Alatorre, Juan Alberto Garcxa, and Heriberto Garcia.

A reporter for Ciudad Obregon's daily Tribuna del Yaqui (2k

Oct, 1975;3a) reconstructed the subsequent confusion from eye-witness accounts.

"He told them if they didn't get out willingly, he had orders to take them out by force," the young man continued, "and when he repeated it to Heriberto Garcia, the latter replied; 'They will only take us from here dead.'" "Given this answer, Lt. Col. Arellano Noblecia," narrates a Guaymas urban policeman, "ordered us to get dovm from the

138 trucks, and together with the judiciales, we started forming a semi-circle, in order to surround the invasores /invaders/ to move them toward the trucks in which we were going to move them out. ... The soldiers, meanwhile, took positions near the canal in order to guard access." And a young reporter from Peri^dicos Sonorenses continued: "Then the police began to advance, in a very large arch, more or less from here to there," he motions to an area about 700 meters in length, "and some of the paracaidistas ^quatter_^ began to move peacefully toward the trucks ... a little while before, the chief of the judiciales had managed to get them (los invasores) to willingly remove a plow-disk and some of those large tubes (of concrete, used for irrigation or drainage) that were in the entrance to the field ... and they were doing that when the mess began." An agent of the Policia Judicial del Estado adds to the story: "We were closing in little by little, and we had al­ ready made contact with a few, from whom we removed, without violence, their garrotes or machetes, and Lt. Col. Arellano Noblecia along with Guillermo Olivas, the head of the Guaymas judiciales, was standing to one side, but in front of leader Ilerberto Garcia when suddenly the latter shouted 'Everyone to his place ... to arms!* And all hell broke loose; they be­ gan to run to a shed where there are pieces of metal sheeting and machinery and shots begam to rain from there. Chief Arellano remained standing, yelling to us 'Don't shoot, don't respond, don't shoot!' ... but already some of the Guajrmas police had taken out their pistols and some of us, too .... Then I saw Olivas make the chief throw himself on the ground and Olivas flung himself at the chief's side." Later Guillermo Olivas told me that he had made Arellano Noblecia throw himself on the ground "when the bullets were already around our feet" and that then the chief had ordered tear gas bombs to be thrown at the ones shooting. Until then, he assured me the police had not opened fire. "They threw gas on them," says a young girl who saw the battleground from her house, one-half kilometer away, "and the shooting was stilled, but it began again a little while later." Another campesino tells me, they began to come out of the shed with their hands up, v/hen suddenly again there were shots, and then, indeed, the police were also shooting. "It's that the whole thing was very hard," says a Guaymas agent, "they were even throwing the gas grenades back at us by catching them with handkerchiefs and the bullets came very close to us. ... And they shouldn't blame us solely; the soldiers were shooting too." In the shed one could discern the marks left by large caliber bullets. An agent told me they are 30-^0 caliber, "from some crazy man who didn't even lift his head to aim and shot v/ithout rhyme nor reason." iko

Later in the Hospital Municipal in Ciudad Obregdn, a doc­ tor stated that one of the wounded had a bullet cross from one side to the other. "That was Fal," he said, referring to the automatic weapons of the army. All the witnesses agreed that the shooting lasted far more than 10 minutes, aind that then gas grenades rained until the paracaidistas surrendered. Lt. Col. Arellano Noblecia refused to make any declarations. He said that the press vrould be given the facts through offi­ cial channels. But one of his subordinates explained that more gas had been ordered so that the situation "would not be a slaughter."

Juan de Dios Teran, a 27-year old teacher in a r\H*al school in

the Valley, was buried twelve hours later at San Ignacio. Five campe-

sinos died with Dios Ter^ in the confrontation: Gildardo Gil Ochoa,

20 years old, of Block 621 in the Yaqui Valley; Rogelio (27) and

Benjamin Robles Ruiz (31) of San Ignacio Rio Muerto; Enrique Felix,

also of San Ignacio; and Rafael Lopez Vizcarra, 38, of Block 221.

Thirteen of the invasores were wounded; three from San Ignacio; three

from Colonia Militar on the outskirts of San Ignacio; two from El

Polvor^ ailong the dried bed of the Rio Muerto; two from Obregon; one

from Navojoa in the Mayo irrigation district; and two with unknown addresses.

The survivors vacated Block 717 on the morning of the 23rd»

But the battle provided no conclusion to the long and violent struggle

for land in the Yaqui Valley. It proved, rather, to be only the first step in a bitter three-year exercise in power politics, a struggle which has now only an unstable and temporary resolution. Over the

course of three years, every domain of power in the state of Sonora,

in the Partido Revolucionario Institucional (PRI) and in the presi­

dency came to be tested. The Yaqui mustered their power too, but were Ikl badly, inevitably, out-maneuvered as the events of San Ignacio quickly took on national and international importance.

News of the dawn battle spread immediately throughout the Yaqui pueblos, broadcast by a loud-speaker truck from Obreg(^n« There were quick and sincere reactions to the loss of life at San Ignacio, but little sympathy for the cause of the invasores and few of the heated political discussions and commentaries which Yaqui men, usually aloof and introverted, sometimes carry on. I suspect the Yaquis realized immediately that their own political and economic demands — for more farmland and more economic aid ~ would be pushed aside until the pressing, volatile issues raised at San Ignacio were settled. Indeed, much of the political maneuverings to follow San Ignacio had little to do with the tribe. Rather, these events involved Mexican campesinos,

Mexican latifundistas, and the Mexican government. Yet the Yaquis did become involved, deeply, on the basis of a largely fortuitous circum- steince: they had laid claim to the same lands that the campesinos had just invaded. In the ensuing months, Yaquis would corae to realize what Marxist theoreticians will only reluctantly admit. A victory for the campesinos at Block 717 would ultimately be a defeat for the indigenous Yaqui demands.

The Peaueffos Propietarios and the CCI

Violence for the most part ended on October 25rd. The battle of rhetoric commenced immediately. Government agrarian officials and nationeil peasaint leaders began arriving in Obreg^n with the initial occupation of 717 early Monday morning, contributing to the atmosphere Ik2

of ominous expectancy. One of the last to come, on a presidential jet

from Mexico City the night after the shooting, v;as Alfonso Garzon,

national leader of the Central Campesina Independiente (CGI), The

victims were members of CCI, and Gars6n had come to investigate. In

what was to become the dominant theme in subsequent months, he bemoaned

the deaths but urged a halt to violence: "We regret what has happened

and hope there will be no more bloodshed" (Diario del Yaqui, 2k October

1975512). Jaime Miranda, president of the Pequena Propiedad — the

small landholders association, main protagonist to Garzon and the

campesinos — likewise decried the violence, urging a return to negoti­

ation (Tribuna del Yaqui, 24 Oct. 1975J5a), "Farmers and representatives

of the governor of the state had been talking peacefully with the

campesinos and their leaders for two consecutive nights. Those talks

were coming along nicely. They had been productive to the point that

they ^ampesino^y had agreed to vacate Mr. Dengel's land the next day.

Nevertheless. . . Miranda perhaps sought to avoid the ramifications

of peasant martyrdom. He was unsuccessfvil, and the killings at San

Ignacio initiated an intense period of public and governmental scrutiny

of the pequefia propietarios, of the alleged discrepancies between the lands of "small holders" and Mexican agrarian law. For Alfonso Garzon,

his public statements were no doubt an echo of governmental policy,

calling for a quick end to agrarian violence.

The history of the CCI under Garzon exemplifies the uneasy and ambiguous role of the peasant sectors in Mexican national politics. It displays the recurrent pattern of dissent and cooptation (Anderson and

Cockcroft 1969s384); of attempts to further peasant interests in the 1^3

face of unyielding national policy, and a subsequent reailignment of

those interests to the national goals. Initially a splinter group

formed by peasant leaders unhappy with the efforts of the official

peasant organization, the Confederacion Nacional Campesina (CNC),

Garzon's CCI has predictably "returned to the fold," a loyal element

of the umbrella CNC.

The CNC was organized during the C^denas administration of

the late 1930s for several official and unofficial purposes. It was

to be the primary framework for carrying out C^denas' extensive pro­

gram of land redistribution by giving the affiliated local agrarian

committees and state peasant leagues a responsive voice at the national level. And it was designed to give presidential sanction to local

efforts at over-ruling obstructionist local officials. Finally, CNC

was to be the vehicle for tying peasant interests directly to the presidency, bypassing the independent organizing attempts by the Mexi­ can Communist Party.

Under C^denas, CNC effectively streamlined agrarian reform.

But with subsequent administrations and less radical agrarian policies,

CNC came increasingly to respond to presidential interests at the ex­

pense of peasant interests. Gerrit Huizer has summarized the role of the organization under the Aleman regime, 19^7-1952.

Peasants were not given the opportunity to discuss the changes in the agrarian laws that undoubtedly have been of great im­ portance in the process of change in the structure of land tenure from that time on. The changes in the legislation were submitted to the official party and the national Congress, Some legislators and some officials of the CNC openly said many times that it was not convenient that the peasants know the details of the new legislation, even if these were harmful, so as to avoid siny agitation in the countryside, which would be harmful to the entire economy of Mexico. .. (Huizer 1970b, translated and quoted in Montes de Oca 1977^53-3^)•

Amendments to the Agrarian Code gave renewed support to the

pequena propietarios against the demands of effective land redistri­

bution. And CMC's failure to block the amendments gave new impetus

for dissent within the national peasant organization, enhancing the

attractiveness of independent peasant unions. One such group, the

Union General de Obreros y Campesinos de Mexico (UGOCM), was founded

in 19k9 under the wing of the Partido Popular Socialista. With an

original membership of 300,000, the UGOCM quickly suffered attrition

through political repression. "The Secretary of Labor's refusal to

register the UGOCM, thus denying it the capacity to act in legal mat­

ters for workers affiliated with it, caused meiny of the unions that

had joined it to leave. Only the peasants remained" (Montes de Oca

1977:55).

This peasant strength was most evident in the northwest. Under

the leadership of Jacinto Lopez and regional communist, head Ramdn

Danzos Palomino, peasants in 1958 threatened seizure of ^+00,000 hec­

tares of the Cananea Cattle Company. Stymied by federal troops and

judiciales, Lopez shifted his front quickly to the Culiac^ Valley of

Sinaloa. He was jailed for the remainder of the year and his peasants

were removed. The following January, though, Jacinto Lopez renewed

his agitation for land reform by leading 3000 squatters onto land

around Obregon. No immediate gains resulted; Lopez received a govern­

mental promise of "a solution of the land problem within the law"

(Huizer 1970a:• 1^5

Coinciding with UGOCM's activity in Sonera, disaffection with

CNC arose among the peasants of Baja California. The initial confron­ tation centered on the Colorado River: CNC and PRI failed to meet the demands of Baja peasants for a stop to the saline runoffs of upstream,

United States agriculture. And Alfonso Garz6n led the unrest. Promi­ nent as a state leader of the CNC in the late 1950s, he broke v;ith the national organization to form the Confederacion Campesina Independiente

(CCI) in January 19^3 (Anderson and Cockcroft 1969t385; Montes de Oca

1977:55-56).

The independence of the CCI was tested from the start. Pres­ sure from the PRI intensified in 196^ as Communist-oriented members of

CCI supported the presidential candidacy of the Frente Electoral del

Pueblo. Garzon, as Anderson and Cockcroft (I969t38^-5) report,

...had vaiiJ.y essayed the tactic of political candidacy against the PRI in 1962, when he ran for mayor of Mexicali but was refused recognition as a candidate. The failure of FEP candidate Ramon Dsmzos Palomino, himself a peasant leader from the north (the impoverished La Laguna area), in the 196^ presi­ dential elections, may have further disillusioned Garzon with the efficacy of political dissent. In any case, repression of CCI demonstrations continued apace, and by 196^, Garzon seemed willing to reconsider his relationship with the PRI.

Garzon did indeed restructure his ties to PRI. In September 196^+, he expelled Communist members from CCI. They immediately organized a second CCI under Raunon Danzos. The subsequent fate of the two leaders is instructive. Danzos' CCI remained independent, but the leader him­ self was "constantly in and out of jail" (Montes de Oca 1977:56). By contrast, Garzon quickly achieved the initial goal: In March 1965t

Mexican president Diaz Ordaz reached an agreement with the United

States to end the dumping of saline water into the Colorado River. IkS

The president additionally promised large sums of money for the reha­ bilitation of the Mexicali Valley. By the time of the gubernatorial elections in August 1965» Garzon and his associates were firmly within the PRI.

Garzon was photographed frequently v/ith the PRI candidate, and at least according to the PAN, Garzdn openly campaigned for the PRI among the peasantry. ... Thus, Garzon and the CCI seemed to be following the same road toward cooptation by the PRI as Jacinto Lopez and the Union General did in Sonora a year earlier (Anderson and Cockcroft 1969:586).

By the 1970b, the PRI had succeeded in incorporating the peas­ ant splinter groups into the unified Congreso Permanente Agrario. In

October of 1973» the GNC, Garzon's CCI, the Congreso Agrario Mexicano

(CAM), and the "Jacinto Lopez" UGOCM together supported a joint decla­ ration, to "back firmly the internal and external policies of the

President of the Republic" (Montes de Oca 19775 60).

In the battle for the Yaqui Valley, the CCI found itself struc­ turally opposed to the Confederacion National de la Pequeria Propiedad

Agricola (PP). Replicating the CCI's position within the CNC and the official PRI, the PP is the largest interest group within the party's

Confederaci6n Nacional de Organizaciones Populares (CNOP). Founded in the early 19^+0's, CNOP gave political representation to the growing middle class, and effectively gained middle class support for the government party rather than the conservative Partido Accion Nacional

(PAN). CNOP is a residual organization, encompassing diverse groups which do not fit easily into the party's other sectors: "small agri­ culturalists, small merchants, artisans, members of cooperative enter­ prises, professional men and intellectuals, youth groups, women's lif? clubs" (Huizer 1970a:A^77). However diverse in origin and composition, the CNOP has a coherent ideology. As Padgett (1966, in Huizer 1970a;

^77) summarizes,

...it is necessary to keep in mind that the CNOP is domi­ nated by professional people who are often also propertied people. Thus the CNOP tends to stand against any raise in property and income taxes. It also promotes the cause of the rural property owner in relation to demands for expropriation on the part of lajidless peasants, and it stands for increased emphasis upon urban improvements and investments, and invest­ ments in the industrialization process as opposed to larger allotments of government money for credit to those on the ejidos.

The Pequena Propietarios have been rewarded for their loyal support of CNOP and the ruling party. During the last years of the

C^denas administration, while land was being distributed to peasants throughout the country, legislation was passed to favor private com­ mercial farmers and ranchers. The Ley de Fomento Ganadero reassured cattle rainchers that lands sufficient to breed 500 head would not be expropriated. According to Huizer (19703:^+75), the decree

...led to the hidden persistence of many latifundios in the hands of those who simulated cattle-breeding on a Isirge scale, but who in reality did not use a large part of the protected lands or who dedicated them to agriculture.

Subsequently, the government and agriculturalists worked out a new agrarian code. Approved in 19^+0, the code declared as non- expropriatable up to 100 hectares of irrigated lands. Additionally, it legalized tracts of 300 irrigated hectares planted with specific cash-crops: bananas, sugar-cane, cacao, coffee, henequen, grapes, olives, rubber, vanilla, and coconuts (Huizer 1970a:^75; Erasmus 1970;

320). Further revisions under the Alem^ regime increased the maximum size of farms planted in cotton to 150 hectares (Montes de Oca 1977:53)* 148

Finally, small proprietors were given the right to request a coxirt

injunction (derecho de amparo) against expropriation (Huizer 1970a;

if85).

Most of these changes met with vocal opposition from repre­

sentatives of the CNC, but the opposition was tempered with some be­

grudging loyalty to the presidency (Huizer 1970a;486), Loyalty within

the CNOP and the PP was less precariously enhanced; changes in the

agrarian code assured the legal underpinnings for "small property" and

increased the confidence and investments of private commercial farmers.

Inevitably, though, the Code laid the foundations for the confrontation

in the Yaqui Valley.

Yaqui Politicians and the Issues

In the recurrent irony of Mexico's political system, both the

PP and the CCI became expectant beneficiaries of the PRI's Agrarian

Code. The Yaqui tribe ov/es no allegiance to the PRI, and thus expected

no political reciprocities from the ruling party. Yet they were inex­

orably drawn into the confrontation at San Ignacio, as perennial

claimants to a disputed tribal boundary.

Lazaro C^denas had sown the seeds for confrontation between

campesinos eind landed farmers by seeking the loyalty of both. He also

endowed the Yaquis with an ambiguous boundary — much firmer than it

had been in the past, but still imprecisely demarcated and imperfectly

understood. Alfonso Fabila, sent to examine conditions of the Yaqui

in the late 1930s, cites G^denas' presidential decree of October 27,

1957 for the founding of the Yaqui reserve. This decree, Fabila

implies, laid the southern boundary. 1^9

...from the southern edge of Isla de Lobos to the southern and eastern limits of the property of the pueblo of Torim; from this point, following the course of the river upstream, to the property of Buenavista (Fabila 19^0:28).

The text of the Cardenas decree, contained in Fabila's report

(translated in Bartell 19^5) shows no such precise marking, however.

Leaving the boundary unspecific, the 1937 decree may have attempted to avoid direct confrontation between Mexican and Yaqui in the Valle; by the late 1930s, I suspect, both parties claimed de jure as well as de facto possession of the territories which ultimately came under dispute in the 1970so On the basis of these rights of possession, both sides may have been waiting expectantly for a settlement favorable to their interests. A final settlement was postponed by the vagueness of the C^denas line, but by the 1970s Yaquis felt politically and eco­ nomically confident to push for a favorable conclusion to the dispute.

By the 1970s, too, the face of the land along the tribe's in­ definite southern boundary had changed dramatically. In 19^« much of the land now in contention was still monte. Thirty-five years later, with a new water supply, it is prime irrigated farmland.

Two factors, the land rights which Yaquis felt they had won from C^denas and the immense value of the land under present condi­ tions, thus motivated Yaqui political activity in 1975* Nearly identi­ cal motivations underlie the demands of cajnpesinos and pequena propietarios at San Ignacio Rio Muerto.

Gradually through the fall of 1975» a period of intense dis­ cussions within the tribe and frequent negotiations with national agrarian officials, the Yaquis decided on their demands. They claimed a new boundary line running from the southern tip of Isla de Lobos to 150

a point on the highway roughly midway between the Mexican cities of

Esperanza and ObregtJh, and from there northeast into the Bacatetes.

The line neatly encompassed within Yaqui territory the massive Oviachi

Dam and reservoir, primary water source for all the irrigated lands

of the Valle and Zona.

It was a bold stroke. Not only would the tribe control anew a

healthy expanse of farmland, it would also possess the heart and artery

of the arid delta. And Yaquis would again own the ground under three

major Mexican population centers in the valley: Bacum, Cocorit, and

the military garrison and railhead town of Esperanza. The demand was

entirely reasonable, according to astute Yaqui politicians. For they

were not requesting restitution of all original territory, which by

legend and by validation in a map published by the anthropologist

Spicer (197^; see discussion in Chapter k, above)5 extended southward

to the Arroyo Cocoraqui at the present division between the Yaqui and

Mayo irrigation districts. The Yaquis did not seek the entire irri­

gated VEilley, simply a thin wedge.

V/ith its demands set, the tribe mustered considerable political

power for the confrontation in late 1975» Yaqui power rested upon

organization (the corporate structure of the tribe) and upon a fleeting

display of unitary interests. The battle for San Ignacio was ulti­

mately, but tenuously, won by a different type of power; the force of numbers.

Through the winter of 1975-1976, most Yaquis were only vaguely worried about the outcome of interminable boundary disputes. Their 151

governors and representatives were, after all, doing as best they coiild

to further tribal interests in the valley. Of more immediate concern

to pueblo residents was an almost epidemic level of bronchial pneumonia,

and their anticipations were directed to the upcoming V/aresma, signal­

ing the end of a hard winter.

Outside the Zone, too, an uneasy truce had been drawn between

campesinos and neo-latifundistas. As more-or-less loyal contingents in

the PRI, both groups were awaiting a presidential settlement to the

tensions that surfaced in San Ignacio.

In January 1976, the bargaining channels were decentreilized:

hopes for a solution were placed in the hands of the new Sonoran gover­

nor, AlejEindro Carrillo Marcor. Former state governor Carlos Armando

Biebrich, a dynamic young party loyalist with a bright political

future, had been deposed by Echeverria shortly after the shootout at

San Ignacio. Biebrich was accused of letting the situation get out of

control, necessitating a massive deployment of force to Block 717.

Subsequently, he was also accused of absconding to Tucson with two

million pesos from the state's treasury. Biebrich*s name was immedi­ ately whitewashed from the ubiquitous tri-color campaign slogans

plastered on v;alls throughout the state. Symbolic, perhaps, of the

imposing power of the official peirty, the slogans were not quickly retouched with the new governor's name; for much of Carrillo Marcor's early tenure in office, the signs read simply and ominously,

"PRI with. ..

Carrillo Marcor attempted to solve the conflict by setting up

a Comite Tripartita Agrario Estadal. Jaime Miranda Pelaez continued 152

to represent his Gonfederacion de la Pequena Propiedad on the Comite.

The Secretariat of Agrsirian Reform sent a delegate, as did the state's

UnicJn Ganadera Regional de Sonora. Carrillo Marcor was represented through the Director Ejecutivo de Asuntos Rureiles, the state's rural ombudsman. The CCI had no official voice, but the interests of CNC were represented by the state leader of the Liga de Comunidades

Agrarias, Ignacio Martinez Tadeo, Young and charismatic, 'Nacho' Tadeo had a -bright political future under Beibrich; his retention of control over CNC's state Liga signified the continued confidence placed in him by Carrillo Marcor and the PRI. Tadeo is a Yaqui, and frequently por­ trayed in newspapers as the spokesman for Yaqui interests in Hermosillo.

In the Yaqui Zone, however, his position seems to be that of a trgins- lator, not a spokesman: infrequently, he is called upon by Yaqui governors to report the proceedings of juntas to Mexican officials and interested bystanders. Indeed, many Yaquis scoff at Tadeo's presumed influence in Hermosillo, and there was little doubt that Tadeo was representing the interests of the CNC, not those of the tribe, in the struggle for land around Ciudad Obregon.

Local newspapers gave little attention to the work of the

Comite Tripartita in the early months of 1976. Designed to mediate the dispute, the Comite seems more importantly to have simply moderated the tensions, diffusing a potential for further violence. The shroud of silence around the Comite's work is significant, though; conflict was temporarily but effectively removed from the volatile arena of national politics, an arena which demands public commitment to revo­ lutionary ideals, effusive rhetorical homage to the memory of past 153 agrarian fif^ters and national heroeso Quietly, in the closed arena of the state, negotiations could proceed with less inflamation. It is most likely that the embattled pequeKa propietarios saw more chance of success once the dispute was localized to the region. Their political and economic power could be more readily marshalled against the gover­ nor of a state heavily dependent on agricultural export, and equally against a state peasant organization bereft of the organizing power and front-line experience of the natioml campesino leaders.

The potential for local compromise ended precipitously in early

April 1976. Members of the Frente Campesina Independiente invaded

Block k07 in the Yaqui Valley. The situation was more pressing than in October: hOO hectares of v;heat were ready to be harvested.

Echoing the determination of the San Ignacio campesinas —

••Only the dead will leave this land and we are ready to die fighting"

(Diario del Yaqui, 10 April 1976?1) — the invaders of Block 407 were less naive to the exercise of political power. They came in numbers, of about 1,000 campesinos, and they were well armed. They took, as well, an extraordinarily bold precaution against retaliation by the police and the army: they seized ais hostages a delegate from the

Secretaria de Reforma Agraria and a field inspector from the Uni(^n de

Credito Agrfcola, accused of spying on the activities of the invaders.

By the 6th of April, hostages in hand, the FCI made its de­ mands. The army and judicial police were to retreat from the immediate area; the Secretary of Agreirian Reform and national peassint leaders must come to Obreg^n to initiate a dialogue. And, finally, the dialogue must center around a specific issue* "To reduce the small 15^

property holdings and irrigation rights presently at 100 hectares to

only 20 hectares per user" (El Imparcial, 19 April 1976:1).

The first two demands were met. The army drew back as the

prisoners were released, and a host of state and national agrarian

leaders and politicians arrived in Obregon. Debate over the third

demsind — real land reform — began immediately, in an idiom more ex­

plicitly economic than politicsil. Massive economic incentives were

announced for agriculturalists who would willingly give up their land

and turn to industrial investment. The precise nature of the incen­

tives were not clearly spelled out but the course of economic develop­

ment was clear: to buttress the processing activities for agrictiltural

products. Proclaiming that "industry is the only path for the state,"

Governor Carrillo Marcor promised to invest if50,000 pesos of state and federal money for infrastructural development: for a sesame seed hulling plant, a meat-packing operation, a gypsum plant, mills, and dairies for Obregon (Diario del Yaqui, 13 April 1976:1).

The purpose of the investments was explicit: "the facilities that President Echeverria's regime was providing to regional farmers were to divert their activities toward industrialization" (Diario del

Yaqui, 13 April 1976:1). Large landowners would be attracted into industry, off the land.

Spokesmen for the pequefia propietarios responded to the govern­ ment promise quickly and suspiciously: "they won't do it if they are obligated, and even less if they aire deprived of their lands v/hich would, in any case, be the collateral needed to obtain the credit to participate in the activity ^f industrialization^" (Diario del Yaqui, 155

15 April 1976:1). Moreover, the agriculturalists seemed wary of in­

dustrial investment, and stuck persistently to their self-image as

small farmers, almost "country bumpkins." Hector Aguilar Parada,

president of the Confederacion de Organismos Agricolas del Estado de

Sonora, communicated this image eloquently.

They are already familiar with agricultural activities and therefore act with confidence in this medium; but to go look for new experiences in areas they haven't practiced is equiva­ lent to running the risk of making ain industry into a mediocre business (Diario del Yaqui, 13 April 1976:1).

While Mexican officials offered economic incentives to the land-

ov;ners, they dealt political rhetoric to the campesinos. A massive

meeting was called for the Cine Cajeme in Obregon on April 10, Alfonso

Garz6n of the CCI returned to the city along with the national leaders

of other agrarian organizations. Unanimously echoing the demands of

the invaders of Block ^07, the leaders spoke for a reduction of the

maximum extent of pequena propiadades to 20 hectares. It v;as the first

public and apparently official support for the 20-hectare proposal,

designed as much to humiliate rich farmers as to appease poor peasants.

A local newspaper gave prominent headlines to the words of Professor

Humberto Serrano, leader of the Consejo Agrarista Mexicano (CAM)J "We

will strip the arrogance from the latifundistas" (Diario del Yaqui,

10 April 1976:1).

The same edition of the Diario carried a short report on the

progress of the Yaqui boundary claims. Yaqui governors and several

pueblo secretarios had gone to the Obregon hotel the previous night,

April 9» to meet v;ith arriving government officials and, it v;as hoped,

to obtain an audience with the Sonoran governor. V/hen they arrived. 156

the motel courtyard was already filled with men, pequeiia propietarios

and campesinos, incongruously loitering around the eucalyptus-lined swimming pool, awaiting the official entourages^ The officials arrived, and the mass of farmers — owners and landless peasants — theatrically sorted themselves. Groups of campesinos and latifundistas moved to separate doorways of the motel rooms, listening to the state­ ments of one official after another. Sensing an end to the interviews, or refusing to accept the propositions, each group moved hurridly to the next doorway, the next governmental spokesman, amd a new group filled the vacated spot.

A differentiation of political styles became increasingly ap­ parent in the motel courtyard and adjoining parking lot. Mexicans, campesinos as v/ell as pequena propietarios, frequently interrupted the governmental spokesmen with the embellished c\irseB of north Mexican

Spanish. They moved from one spealcer to the next at the threatening cue of "jV^anos!" from their own leaders. Watching the spectacle,

Yaquis sat quietly and nervously along the curbstones, awaiting their opportunity for discussion but not forcing their presence on the assembled officials.

I had driven the officers of Rahum pueblo to the motel. In the car, the governor spoke, vitriolically but with reason, against the

Mexican government, against the lack of financial aid for development, for education, for health. The government, he said, was very hard

(dura) in its bargaining position, very unresponsive to Yaqui petitions.

At the motel Yaqui governors finally got the opportunity to talk, or rather to listen. Carrillo Marcor, in his light blue leisure suit, manipulating a massive cigar, gathered the Yaquis about him at one end of the parking lot. Nacho Tadeo sought to orchestrate the con­ frontation. There was no confrontation, and Tadeo was ignored. The introductions were prolonged and patterned, though. Each pueblo gover­ nor moved to the center and shook hands with the state governor and with Felix Barra Garcia, Secretary of Agrarian Reform (SRA). Sombreros were raised, politely and deferentially, by each Yaqui official in his turn. The Rahum governor who hours before had confidently attacked the state and the nation, now sheepishly met the leaders. His own pueblo secretary, young and suave, almost refused the introduction altogether, from shyness rather than defiance.

Yaqui governors expressed their demajnds concisely: a defini­ tive settlement of the boundary question and a step-up to the rehabili­ tation of the Porfirio Diaz Canal through the Yaaui Zone. Carillo

Marcor and Felix Barra were evasive in their rambling responses. The head of SRA agreed to further meetings with Yaqui governors ajid to fxirther study of the issues in the line dispute.

Returning to Rahum that night, the pueblo officials were ambivalent, neither encouraged nor especially discouraged by the de­ flecting replies they had witnessed. They had agreed, though, to return en masse to the Cine Obregon in the morning.

Arriving late, the Yaqui contingent found space only in the back rows of the Cine balcony. Campesinos packed the spacious audito- rixun as local, state, and national agrarian leaders crowded on stage.

For the Yaquis, there was to be an unfortunate continuity to the pro­ ceedings of the night before in the motel, in political style and 158

government unresponsiveness. Throughout the long morning and afternoon

of impassioned and embellished speeches, Yaqui requests for land were

never addressed. Perhaps to counteract this studied neglect by govern­

ment officials to their demands, the Yaqui observers maintained quiet

aloofness in the balcony. Like the previous night, the contrasting

political styles of Mexican campesinos and Yaqui officials were stark.

Four thousand assembled campesinos responded boisterously and approv­ ingly to the speakers on stage and unanimously cheered the continuous invocation of the names of Jacinto Lopez, Emiliano Zapata, of Lazaro

Cardenas. They applauded the frequent rhetorical condemnations of latifundistas and norteamericanos. And they quickly responded to the rallying beat of a Mayo drum, reported erroneously by the newspapers as Yaqui. Yaqui and Mayo drums are identical, but the Yaquis in the balcony were quick to disassociate themselves from such secular use of the integral ritual instrument.

I will risk an over-formalized contrast between balcony and main floor of the Cine, between Yaqui officials and Mexican campesinos.

The Yaqui presence exuded corporateness. The Mexican show of force, large and boisterous, communicated the disorganized responsiveness of members.

The campesino mass, nevertheless, received what they came for; a public if still tentative government commitment to the 20-hectare limit. But Felix Barra, the final speaker (later indicted by the re­ gime of President Lopez Portillo for embezzlement), urged an immediate return to the "cEunino de la ley," the legal road, an explicit condemna­ tion of the unauthorized invasion of Block ^07 several days before. 159

...we have investigated the present situation of the people who now hold the land and the misery and desperation which you combat. I will convey it to him ^cheverri^ like this and also tell him of this great mass of carapesinos who have attended this meeting, ready to follow el camino de la ley. I am going to tell him that, in an organized manner, as has been expressed here, the reform of the Constitution is indispensible to assure the transfer of land and to confer the necessary water (Diario del Yaqui, 11 April 1976:1).

In his turn. Governor Carrillo Marcor had expressed his alle­ giance to the Revolution, and equally to the law,

V/e are not asking Echeverria to disregard the legitimate rights of those men who really do have a small property holding and who are as much victims of the present situation as are our landless brothers and ejido owners, because the Revolution created distinct property classifications: the ejido, the col­ lective farm, and the authentic small property holding (la pequena aut^ntica propiedad) (Diario del Yaqui, 11 April 1976:1).

Carrillo Marcor's comments were pregnant. The conflict was ultimately to turn on discrepant notions of "la pequena autentica propiedad."

And the ironic casuistry of the camino de la ley was to become in­ creasingly apparent in the months following the Cine meeting.

The immediate result of the meeting was a call for President

Echeverria to come to Sonora, survey the tensions, and pronounce a solution. Echeverria arrived on April 19 with a score of state gover­ nors, top-level party and agrarian leaders, and official party csindi- dates for the national elections of July. Before an estimated 50»000 carapesinos — the CNOP was officially excluded from the rally — in the spacious, immaculate plaza of Ciudad Obregon, the candidates were displayed, governors and party leaders spoke in unending succession, and Echeverria gave a remarkably passionate and evasive summation of presidential agrarian policy. He adroitly avoided reference to the i6o proposed 20-hectare limit, a tacit but unmistakable signal that the demand was premature. His theme was conciliatory: through land in­ vasions and armed retaliation, both sides in the struggle had departed from the road of law. Campesinos aoxd latifundistas shared equailly in the blame, and both must work together for a peaceful and constitu- tionail solution.

Fellow campesinos: I have not come to just another political meeting; I have come to personally feel this experience, this dramatic and in many aspects, tragic situation of the agrarian south of Sonora. And I have come to tell you that the camino de la ley is still good. ... I have come to tell you that neither the violence of the latifundistas nor some isolated policemen, v;ho in reality were in the service of the latifun­ distas, nor the violence of the invaders is a good way for Mexico to resolve its problems. ... I want to ask all sectors of southern Sonora to make am effort to understand what is happening here: some are not bad and others good; we are all Mexicans who want the unity and progress of our country. When Mexico was divided in the last century, it lost half of its territory, and when Mexico is deeply divided violence and bitterness reign over us. V/e have to make a solid and optimistic, a vigorous and united country for our children. This is the wish of all Mexicans of good faith; with eQ.1 intensity, let us work within the bounds of the present Constitution and within the law (El Imparcial, 20 April 1976:9a).

Outraged initially by their exclusion from the mass rsdly, the pequena propietarios soon expressed support and confide^ice in Eche- verria and the law. Jaime Miranda Pelaez offered his sentiments to a reporter for El Imparcial: "I was pleased when the President said he will act with the law in his hand; that is all we, the pequeHa propietarios, are asking" (El Imparcial, 20 April 1976:9a).

Assembled campesinos, through their spokesmen in the CCI, CNC, and CAM, were also officisilly satisfied with the presidential address. l6l

Some, undoubtedly, were simply impatient for the president and his entourage to leave, and the cantinas to be reopened,

I accompanied several young Yaqui men to the mass rally. Their reactions to the interminable speakers were markedly different from the attitudes of seasoned Yaqui politicians. The young men seemed to be enraptured by the revolutionary rhetoric and the symbolic manipulation of the memory of dead agrarian heroes. They felt, I suspect, a strong if only situational solidarity with the Mexicaai lower classes assembled in the plaza.

The official and organized Yaqui presence at the gathering v;as disappointing, though. In the morning, a dozen buses had been mustered on the llano in Potam to carry a Yaqui contingent to Obregoh, Gover­ nors and pueblo officials dutifully went, but more than half the buses left empty. The marginality of their demands was, by now, patently obvious to astute Yaqui politicians. And this marginality was repro­ duced, spatially, when the Yaqui contingent arrived in the city.

Gathering disinterestedly in a peripheral square well down the street from the main plaza, the Yaqui representatives were barely within hear­ ing distance of the speakers' platform. Tribal boundaries and ques­ tions of Yaqui development were ignored by the succession of orators.

By late April, the wheat had been harvested and Yaquis turned their concerted efforts to the ritual of Semana Santa.

The progress of the conflict to this point can now be assessed.

Instability in southern Sonora has a long history, and the wave of invasion and violent repression at San Ignacio in October again brought the region to national attention. The swift occupation of the Rio 162

Muerto, apparently unauthorized and unexpected, caught Alfonso Garzon

and the CCI off their guard. Garzon came immediately to Obregon, to

act as the official conduit for the demands of the campesinos and to

attempt a quieting, if not a settlement, of the explosive situation

at San Ignacio.

Invasions and further violence were avoided for the remainder

of the fall, but the expectations of campesinos in the Yaqui valley

and south along the Mayo had been raised by the official presence of

Garzon and the CCI in the region. Quick and acceptable solutions to the conflict proved intractable, though, even when after January the negotiations were turned over to the Sonoran governor's Comite Tri­ partita Agrario. Briefly, the dispute was removed from the arena of national politics.

The dialogue of the Comite was abruptly superceded when, in early April, the uncoopted and unyielding Frente Campesina Indepen- diente invaded Block ^07 near San Pedro. Autonomous of the PRI, the

FCI undoubtedly felt that government attempts to negotiate a settle­ ment were moving too slowly, if at all. Strategically timed to disrupt the v/heat harvest, the FCI's invasion forced the government's hand: president and party again were drawn publicly into the politics of southern Sonora. They entered, though, in a curiously uncoordinated fashion. Leaders of the Pacto de Ocampo, the agrarian truce of the early 1970s which brought the CCI, CNC, and CAM together under the tutelage of the PRI, immediately supported the demands of the bastard

FCI for a 20-hectare limit to irrigated parcels. A week later when

Echeverria convened his massive rally of campesinos, politicians and 163

party hopefuls, the official backing for the 20-hectare limit was con­

spicuously absent. Faced with the potential for massive economic

counterrevolution should the limit be imposed on wealthy landowners

aind investors of Sonora, Echeverria v/as conciliatory. He gave every

indication, publically, that the camino de la ley would be followed

for campesinos and pequena propietarios alike. Perhaps fortuitously,

too, the President's stance of appeasement bought some time, sufficient

to harvest the wheat on disputed parcels around Obregon.

Coincident with the explosive events in the Valle, the Yaquis

had chosen to press their perennial demand for a definition of the

southern tribal boundary, as well as increased financial and technical

aid. The demands received token responses: periodic visits by govern­

ment bureaucrats, occasional audiences with high-level state and

national politicians, and temporary uneasiness among the established

Mexican residents of the towns abutting the Yaqui reserve.

Yaquis found themselves ironically constrained by the very strength of their corporate political organization. They chose, in their petitions and their disciplined discussions with Mexican offi­ cials, to follow strictly the camino de la ley. In consequence, their demands were easily ignored by a government more directly confronted with the explosive portent of landless campesino masses.

By April, the tribe had played its political hand, with no apparent recompense by the Mexican government. And the strains of the political contest began to show in the pueblos, January's Dia de los

Reyes, when traditionally the new pueblo officials are installed, had passed without a turnover of leaders in most of the towns; with l6^

apparent pueblo support, the governors had decided to remain in office

while the boundary negotiations proceeded. But by April the governors

had little to show for their efforts. Increasingly there were demands

that the canes of office be turned over to new men, A "shadow" govern­

ment had in fact been organized in the pueblo of Huirivis, and through­

out Wciresma the village was tensely divided. Residents of Rahum and

Potam seemed equsilly discontent over the failure of their leaders.

Through April of 1976, then, the best efforts of the Yaqui

corporate polity had achieved little. Ironically, as subsequent events

in the Valle would show, neither the campesinos nor the pequena propi-

etarios had even begun to marshall their full power. After Semana

Santa and after the harvest of wheat, the character of the dispute was

to change dramatically.

End of the Sexenio

Events through April of 1976 were not extraordinary. Peasant

demands, initial and violent repression, small government concessions,

attempts to mollify eill competing interests through tenuous promises;

this pattern had occurred elsev/here in Mexico before. In fact, when I

left the field in May, little had happened to signal a drastic depar­

ture from the well-studied cycle of repression, cooptation and sub­

sequent normalcy.

I was, in short, naive to the import of a brief story run in

the Hermosillo newspaper. El Imparcial, of April 21, 1976. Jose Lopez

Portillo, the PRI's presidential candidate for the July elections,

offered his tentative reactions to the 20-hectare limit. 165

V/e must step ahead; we must avoid reaching the absurdity of continuous divisions in land holding. Otherwise we will reach the severe restrictions of the minifundio, which are not only limitations on land, but also on the imagination and even on the will to work. The individual and isolated small holding impedes the great adveinces in agricultTU-al production. To leave the minifundio to chance is a risk taken by the revolution and paid by the Mexicain people. It is absolutely necesseiry that the unit of production re­ mains intact, that it not be divided; this is of basic and fundamental importance to the country. V/hat we have to do is to create and recreate units of production which permit the economies of scale sufficient to augment productivity. Our main concern is that the land be a sufficient source to feed the people of Mexico. In no way will we take the step backwards to recreate the minifundio. This is not the solution to the country's basic problem; self-sufficiency in the produc­ tion of food. V/e caimot leave the minifundio isolated, nor let it repro­ duce as a general system of production. We have to organize it to create productive units; otherwise, the campesinos and the Mexicein people are going to suffer even more. This is the fundsunental effort we should accomplish in the next six years (El Imparcial, 21 April 1976:1).

Lopez Portillo obliquely revived an issue which had been studi­

ously avoided in the official rhetoric of EcheverraTa and the national

agrarian leaders: the growing crisis in Mexican agriculture, the

failure of production to keep pace with the country's explosive popu­

lation growth. Explicitly, Lopez Portillo was only decrying the ad­

verse effects of minifundismo: low productivity and inefficiency.

Implicitly, he seemed to be expressing guarded support of the large and productive agricultural enterprises, the "peque'na propiedades" of

the rich irrigated northwest coast. And, tacitly, his position could

be interpreted as an attack on the under-production of ejidos. In the uneasy tension between social welfare and economic development, which

I will consider in some historical depth in the following chapter. 166

Lopez Portillo appeared in April to be throwing his weight, his eminent presidential power, behind development, not welfare.

Officia3.1y, however, Lopez Portillo*s vague statement of policy in April did not depart radically from Echeverria's proclamations. The outgoing president had not supported the 20-hectare limit, nor had he publically threatened mass expropriations of land. He had simply called for a strict and conscientious application of the Constitution.

By the end of his term in November, though, Echeverria had expropriated tens of thousands of hectares in the Yaqui veilley, turned irrigated farms over to campesinos, and used the power of his office to nullify the legal redress of the pequerfe. propietarios.

The course of action unfolded slov;ly after tempers quieted in

April. Immediately following the public drama of Echeverrxa's appear­ ance in Obregon, government agrarian officials began a protracted series of private negotiations with local landowners. As reported later by a North American newspaper (Information Services on Latin

America /iShk/ #2319) the secrecy of the bargaining was designed to

•'save the face" of both government and pequefik propietarios, presumably because the landovmers had been adament in their public stance against losing or even selling their lands, while the government had, perhaps, been embarrassed when its belated attempts to buy off landowners, through favorable incentives to industrialization, had been quickly rejected. Quietly, throughout the summer, the issue debated was one of just compensation should the lands be expropriated.

The negotiations were unsuccessful. Some landowners, evidently, were prepared to sell, but at twice the price offered by the government 167

(ISLA #2319)• Stalemated, the bargaining broke off in mid-November

(ISLA #2319). In late summer, during the course of the secret talks,

Echeverria announced that he would not leave office without distributing land to the campesinoso

Despite the president's warning, though, few people outside the highest levels of government and party were pre;pared for the mas­ sive and swift invasion of thousands of hectares of Sonoran and

Sinaloan farmland in mid-November, 1976. V/ithin a week of the squatter movement, Echeverria ordered the expropriation of 100,000 hectares around Obregon (ISLA #2315) for distribution to 8,000 campesino fami­ lies (ISLA #2312). This series of invasions differed dramatically from the isolated actions at San Ignacio and Block 407, San Pedro. In mid-

November 1976, the invasions were organized and initiated by the government, with undoubtedly the full knowledge and support of the outgoing president. As a reporter for the VJashington Post wrote.

In a visit to the region, I found that shabby peasants who had suddenly received stretches of the perfectly plowed and fully irrigated fields still seemed dumfounded. After hearing 20, even 30, years of promises, they said they were suddenly told two weeks ago by pro-government peasant leaders to set up camp on paths and irrigation dikes and ditches beside the disputed fields. Eight days later, on Fri­ day, the word came that they were to plant their flags on the lauid that was now theirs. V'/hen dawn broke and 25»000 people had taken possession, it was too late for the former ovmers to seek a restraining order from the local court (ISLA •^2317).

In the days following the expropriations, a bitter contest of words ensued. Pequena propietarios sought recourse in the Constitu­ tion, but they were adroitly out-maineuvered by the president and his agrarian advisors. Dispossessed farmers argued that Echeverria had violated the law in bypassing the courts which have, in theory, the right to decide on the legality of landholdings. They claimed, too, that the president had misinterpreted the agrarian statutes aillowing farmers to hold tracts up to 100 hectares: there is nothing in the law, pequena propietarios maintained, to prevent members of the same family from each possessing 100 hectares (ISLA ^2313)•

The Echeverria response was terse: his officials had made a careful study of land tenure in the Yaqui valley and discovered 72 families illegally holding vast tracts of irrigated landso Moreover, his presidential decree of expropriation overrides any court injunc­ tions and judicial appeals of farm ovmers (ISLA #2312).

Peasant leaders quickly marshalled another defense, and re­ vealed the ultimate strategy of the well-timed invasions. If farmers refuse to plant winter crops, then; "we the peasants will do it.

And we will take their farms in any way needed, because the constitu­ tion says that the land shouldn't stay idle but belongs to those who work it" (ISLA #2310 /Celestino Salcedo Monteon quoted in The Miami

Herald ll-l6-7£7).

Stymied by presidential interpretations of ambiguous land tenure statutes, faced with further expropriations should they fail to plant winter wheat, unwilling to invest in cultivation under the un­ certain situation, the pequefiia propietarios were effectively out- maneuvered by the well-orchestrated government attack. They responded with a nationwide call for sympathy, in the form of a massive show of economic power, a strike, during the final week in November. The president of Sonora's Chamber of Commerce predicted. 169

...a complete halt of commerce and industry in western Mexico and some other cities of Mexico as a protest for what has happened to these farmers, to private property and to freedom (ISLA

When the strike came, eleven states were paralyzed for a day.

Strike leaders estimated that 90 million pesos of industrial output and trade were lost (ISLA #2316). Candidly realizing their action would have little effect on Echeverria, protest leaders were looking ahead to the new administration.

It is important to show Mexico and the v;orld that such illegal actions cannot be taken without strong protest in Mexico .... And it is essential that we urge the incoming govern­ ment to take strong legal measiores to rectify the situation quickly. If we do not, who will invest here? \Vho will know where they stand? (ISLA #2316).

As expected, the strike did nothing to alter the outgoing president's resolve. He proceeded with the expropriation of 102,666 hectares in the Yaqui Valley: 37,500 of prime irrigated farms, and the remainder of unwatered grazing land (ISLA #2^^+^).

Under the new president, an unstable peace was restored to the valley, with dispossessed farmers expecting redress from the government.

Campesinos were equally determined to remain in possession of their lands. Jaime Miranda, again representing the pequeft'a propietarios, was quoted in February 1977s "Things are somewhat more peaceful, but we're pressuring the government for more assurances before we reinvest in our farms or equipment" (ISLA #727)* And some of the plots in contention v/ere returned to the courts for settlement, an arena which Echeverria had successfully bypassed in the closing days of his administration.

Many observers predicted, early in Lopez Portillo's control, a return of the land to its former owners. One unnamed commentator suggested: 170

"The pairty doesn't need the campesinos* votes for another five years.

Mexico needs these big landowners' investments right now" ISLA #727)•

President Lopez Portillo waited until May, after the harvest

of winter wheat, to make his position clear. His government investi­

gators had discovered that 17*500 hectares of the 37,500 irrigated

hectares expropriated by Echeverria were in fact held legally by their

former owners, within the 100 hectares allowed by law. Now, however,

it would be politically impossible to take the lands away from the

campesinos with another presidential decree. Such a move would "set

the country ablaze." Instead, Ldpez Portillo offered to compensate the

dispossessed landowners at a rate of 30,000 to ^0,000 pesos per hectare

(ISLA :^2kkk). The president bolstered his offer of compensation — at

a rate generally below the commercial value of Valley land (ISLA i^2hkk)

— with a threat:

The president said he was aware that farmers might reject the offer and go ahead with their court action. But he warned them that if they did, the government would use all its power to ensure that the campesinos who now occupy the land keep it (ISLA #2kkk).

German Pablos, landowner and member of an agricultural credit union in

Obregb'n, responded for the pequena propietarios,

I think most of the farmers will accept, not because it is an especially good offer, but because the way the president put it doesn't give them much choice (ISLA

In August of 1977 the final settlement was announced. The

government would pay within 30 days, at a rate of 21,000 pesos per

hectare, for 17,900 hectares. By December 1977, newspapers reported that 80 of the 750 affected agricultxiralists had been compensated; the 171 remainder were waiting expectantly (ISLA /'3^17). Some former land­ owners survived economically by contracting their machinery out to ejidos and private farmers (ISLA ?^3^17); others were less fluid in their adaptations to the expropriations. The president of Obrego'n's

Chamber of Commerce summarized the position of the formerly landed elite of the Valley;

Some of them had money or other business interests, but the majority had nothing but their land. They had debts, loans outstanding. Everyone in the com­ munity has tried to help them, especially the credit unions and private beinks. But some of them are in a very bad way economically (ISLA #3^1?)•

Mass, Organization, and Resoiu?ces; An Analysis

When Juan de Dios Tersih and Heriberto Garcia led their small group of campesinos onto the irrigated fields of San Ignacio, they were reviving a long-standing tension in the Yaqui Valley, In the ensuing months of public rhetoric and private political dealings, three pro­ tagonists battled persistently to gain and to retain lands: the Yaqui tribe, the campesinos loosely organized into PRI-sponsored agrarian unions, and the v/ealthy landed elite of Ciudad Obregon. To analyze the temporary outcome of the confrontation — an outcome which even a cursory reading of the history of Mexican land reform would show to be mutable — three questions must be raised. First, why did the Yaqui tribe, with a corporate structure effective in articulating and com­ municating the interests of the Eight Pueblos, fare so poorly in the conflict? Second, v/hy did the campesinos ostensibly gain the victory?

Why did the outgoing President Echeverria, in the face of a crumbling 172

national economy, throw his weight behind the ejidatarios and expro­

priate the presumably more productive and efficient latifundios?

Third, in spite of their demonstrated ability to mobilize a great deal

of economic power, why did the "pequena propietarios," the latifun-

distas, ultimately concede to the campesinos and the government?

These questions seek to uncover the bases of power for each of

the three protagonists. They seek to return the analysis to the issue

raised in Chapter 2, the notion of "composite interference" proposed

by F. G. Bailey. Looking again at the course of events in the Valle,

we can evaluate the Mexican government's capability, as well as its

determination, to intercede in the land dispute, to direct the outcome.

Capability is, simply, power; and determination, the willing­

ness of an entity — the national government, or the local protagonists

— to exercise that power. Analytically, power can be distinguished

by its sources. In a well-known formulation, Robert Bierstedt (1950:

737) speaks of three major sources of power: numbers, social organiza­

tion, and resources. Of the masses, Bierstedt observes.

Given the same social organization and the same resources, the larger number can always control the smaller and secure its compliance.

But numbers are not always sufficient,

A well organized and disciplined body of marines or of police can control a much larger number of unorganized individuals. An organized minority can control an organized majority.

Finally,

Of two groups, equal or nearly equal in numbers and comparable in organization, the one v/ith access to the greater resources will have the superior power. And so resources constitute the third source of social power. Resources may be of many kinds — money, property, prestige, knowledge, competence, deceit, 173

fraud, secrecy, and, of course, all of the things usually in­ cluded under the terra "natural resources."

V/hile an levels of society may draw some power from each of these three sources, there is an obvious if inexact relationship be­ tween source of power and social class. Bierstedt (1967:89) sketches this relationship in a subsequent discussion. The lower class, gener­ ally propertyless and unorganized, retains the residual power of numbers.

They have so much latent force in their numbers alone that every innovator must solicit their support, every demagogue must appeal to their emotions, every leader must treat them with care lest they turn against him and nullify even the efforts he might expend on their behalf.

And the middle class, frequently smaller in size than the lower, poorer in resources than the upper, characteristically resorts to organization.

For the middle class is the class of the voluntary association; its people form organized groups with others of similar inter­ est and intent, and they pursue these interests sometimes in harmony with and sometimes in opposition to the status quo (Bierstedt 1967:90).

Finally, the upper class "has access to the resources of society, makes the big decisions, and is the pre-eminent manipulator of power" (Bier­ stedt 1967:90).

Thus classes have their characteristic sources of power, V/hat

Bierstedt does not sufficiently acknowledge — although he certainly anticipates it — is that power in one class may be put to the service of another. Here Richard N. Adams' concept of derivative power proves useful. Groups may hold independent power, a "direct control over some source of power (land, weapons, mass of people)," or they may derive or receive power from another group. They may "call upon some other ly't power holder to use his power on their behalf" (Adams 1970:57). Adding this concept of derivative power to Bierstedt's hierarchy of power sources, it is clear, theoretically, that the masses may under some circumstances gain the power of resources or organization from super- ordinate classes. Or, as ultimately happened in the Yaqui Valley, the government may derive the power of numbers from the masses, and the masses in turn may derive the power of resources and organization from the government, all to confront a rich and organized landed elite.

With these concepts of power in hand, the initial question can now be examined: why did Yaqui petitions cUid demands go unheeded through 1975 and 1976?

The tribe was, in a real sense, simply overpowered. It was, as well, constrained by its own autonomy. Political power for the

Yaqui stems preeminantly from organization, the Yaqui corporate polity, and more diffusely from the resources of their land. At least around the issue of the tribal boundary, the pueblo governors were able to transmit a unitary opinion to government and state officials. And as sole representatives for the tribe, the assembled governors were able to meet officially and directly with agrarian spokesmen and the state governor. Moreover, the pueblo governors had at hand the established procedures — the traditional Sunday meetings in each pueblo, the capacity to mobilize all pueblo governors and officials for extra­ ordinary meetings in the primera cabecera of Vicam pueblo — for gathering opinions and obtaining legitimacy from common tribal members.

Finally, the governors had the minimal financial resources to carry out the logistics of their office. They could tap the small operating 175 budget of the pueblos, garnered through sales of natural resources to

Mexican entrepreneurs, "camping fees" charged to Mexican vacationers on the Yaqui beaches, and an occasional donation from Mexican store­ keepers residing in the pueblos.

Apart from organization, the tribe could marshall little addi­ tional power® Resources v/ere not sufficient to underi,vrite an extensive lobbying campaign, nor to appeal to the general public through news­ paper advertisements, as the other protagonists did repeatedly. And in the one effort to mobilize mass Yaqui support for the tribe's de­ mands — the bus convoy to Echeverria's Obreg<5n rally ~ the small turnout proved to be embarrassing.

Ultimately, though, the Yaqui demands failed for lack of derivative power. This is the price of Yaqui political autonomy. In contrast to the apparent winners, the campesinos, Yaquis do not fall within the umbrella of the governing PRI. In the dispute, the tribe had no national spokesmen, such as the local campesinos found in the leaders of CNC and CCI. Structiirally, perhaps, the Institute Nacional

Indigenista, with its national bureaucracy and regional centers, plays a role similar to the CNC, as representatives for indigenous interests in national piovernment. But Yaquis had little faith in the newly organized INI regionsil center in the Zone, and likewise the regional director seemed to keep an exceedingly lovj profile during the land dispute. The tribe, in short, had not been coopted into the structure of the governing party, and thus could not expect the political bene­ fits which cooptation entails. 176

Contrasts with the loceil campesino groups are telling. In the initial confrontation at San Ignacio, the invaders acted independently of government direction: apparently no national leaders of either the

CNC or CCI were on the scene from the start. They sirrived quickly, and immediately elevated the dispute to the level of national politics.

There, as more-or-less influential members of the governing party's power structure, they could effectively bargain to override state interest. Retaliation against the state government, which had deployed municipal and state police to San Ignacio, was swift. The incumbent governor v/as ousted and a new state governor was appointed by the party.

Subsequently, campesinos, agrarian leaders, and the PRI coalesced their sources of power. Renewed invasions of November \fere organized and orchestrated by government personnel: agrarian officials were on hand to dictate when and where the campesinos were to move; trucks were provided to take peasants swiftly onto the lands, before pequena propietarios could defend their tracts with court injunctions.

And through the concerted invasions, the power of numbers was invoked;

Lopez Portillo, succeeding Echeverria as president, was officially re­ luctant to revoke the expropriations for fear of "setting the country ablaze."

But the power of numbers, of masses with apparent revolutioneiry potential, was fully derivative, not independent. Stimulated by the success of government-backed invasions in Sonora, peasants tried to move onto land in the adjoining state of Sinaloa. The independent invasionsy sponsored neither by the PRI nor by national agrarian organi­ zations, were quickly repressed. 177

State police were called in to move them out, and all but a few thousand hectares are now back in the hands of the legal owners (ISLA #2kkk).

Nation and state clearly retained the power to truncate the independent

action of numbers.

Corporately organized and autonomous, the Yaqui tribe lost out

to a mass of campesinos, government-financed and organized, and

tightly reigned. Through a long and confused series of events in the

Yaqui Valley, the federal government and ruling party repeatedly demon­ strated the capability and power to interfere, to carefully control the

outcome of a struggle for land. The Yaqui polity was no match for the combined power, of resources, organization, and numbers, displayed in

Echeverria's expropriations.

Two questions remain, addressed not to the capability to inter­ fere, but to determination. V/hy were the campesinos supported by the government and why did the landowners concede? Here we move more directly to the economics, not the politics, of land use in the Yaqui

Valley, This is the primary subject of the next chapter, but some pro­ posed, and inadequate, answers to these questions may be examined here.

Throughout the final year of the Echeverria sexenio, commen­ tators in the press speculated on the motivations behind the imminent and, finally, the accomplished expropriations. Two persistent rumors gained widespread currency: that Echeverria designed the expropria­ tions to create a national state of emergency or fuel a coup d'etat against the incoming regime of L6pez Portillo, in either case retaining power for himself; or that the outgoing president sought to firmly 178 establish himself as a leader in Third World nationalist and revolu­ tionary movements (ISLA #2311, #727)•

In light of the facts, both explanations are strained. Eche- verria moved cautiously v/ith the expropriations: he rejected quickly the proposal to reduce the maximum holdings to 20 hectares. And he assured that the expropriations would be limited to the Yaqui Valley, leaving much of the large landholdings in Sinaloa intact. The larger proportion of lands expropriated in the Yaqui Valley — 65,166 out of

102,666 hectsires (ISLA #24Mf) — were grazing lands, not irrigated farmland. And there were immediate complaints from the presumed bene­ ficiaries of the Echeverria policy. As the New York Times reported on

November 26, 1976 (ISLA #2318),

Of 50,000 landless peasants, only 8,900 received plots last week and many felt they had once again been manipulated by the Government, In the Roberto Barrios group, one of 150 groups that set up improvised camps beside the disputed property for a week before the takeover, there were complaints that only the leaders had been given land, "We've been campaigning for land as a group since 1958," one angry peasant woman said. "We've been paying our leader 10 pesos a week to carry on the fight. Now he's been bought off with a piece of land and has abandoned us" (ISLA #2318),

The revolutionary intent of the president may indeed have been genuine.

The limited results spurred new discontent.

For the pequeila propietarios, their ultimate compliance with the dictates of the federal government was surprisingly rapid. During the one-day strike in November 1976, they had united a range of power­ ful economic interests. Throughout much of the country they were supported by the large private sector of the economy, of business. 179 industry, and commerce. Prolonging the stike would have dealt a severe blow to a troubled national economy. But the strike was little more than a call for sympathy and a show of potential force, of power that was never again invoked. If in fact the Yaqui Valley expropria­ tions signaled the demise of a long-entrenched landed elite, the losers only weakly fought off that downfall.

Hidden for the most part in the long land dispute in the Valle were the economic realities of coramerciail agriculture. By gaining ejido lands, the campesinos had in fact won very little. Deprived of their lands, the pequefia propietarios had conceded little: they still retained their capital, and through capital they will inexorably re­ gain control over the profits from the land. CHAPTER 6

VALLE AND ZONA; THE STRUCTURE OF DEPENDENCY

The expropriation of farmland around San Ignacio was a politi­ cal solution, partial and unstable, to immediate economic demands.

But these demands — of campesinos for a stronger foothold in the

Valle, and of indigenous Yaquis for an enlargement of the Zona — were inevitable outgrowths of 100 years of economic development in southern

Sonora. During these 100 years, the growth of export agriculture has fostered economic dependence as well as modernization. In this chap­ ter I v/ill examine some of the causes and consequences of these pro­ cesses.

Economic Development and Social V/elfare in Mexico

In the decades of political stability since the Revolution,

Mexico's domestic policy focused broadly on two goals: strengthening the total economic performance of the country and assuring the social welfare of its population. The uneasy balance between these two goals is nowhere more apparent than in the Yaqui region. To understand the region, though, we must look first at the Mexican political economy on its larger scale.

In an intelligent analysis, The Politics of Mexican Develop­ ment, Roger Hansen (197'+) seeks to understand the Mexican "miracle," how it came about, and for whom it bears fruit. The "miracle" of

180 l8l

Mexican development is manifested in a sustained growth rate of S% since 19^» an Bf/o yearly increase in manufacturing, and the attainment of virtual self-sufficiency in the production of foodstuffs, basic petroleum products, steel, and many consumer goods (Hansen 197'+:^1)«

V/hile the causes of Mexican industrialization are varied, a primary factor has been the inducement offered to private investors.

Mexico's commercial policy has been highly protective, first through direct tariffs, then through a strict system of import licensing.

In the earlier years tariff protection was relied upon to a considerable extent to entice domestic investors into import- substitution enterprises. During the 19^0s rising tariff protection was viewed as the logical corollary to the widely stated goal of industrialization. ... Since the 19^0s, nominal import duties on raw materials have been kept low while rates for finished mainufactures have often exceeded 100 percent (Hansen 197^t^8).

More recently, the policy of import licensing has been instituted to serve the

...double purpose of increasing the pace of industrializa­ tion and conserving scarce foreign exchange for the importa­ tion of non-luxury items. Approximately 80 percent of Mexicain imports are now subject to licensing requirements. Under the licensing system the mere capacity to produce domestically has generally been deemed sufficient reason to suspend the impor­ tation of competing products (Hansen 197^:^8).

Equally attractive to potential private investors in industry have been a variety of tax concessions: five- to ten-year exemptions for new enterprises, duty rebates on the importation of rav/ materials and machinery used in manufacturing, direct investment subsidies, and ceilings on the rate of interest (Hansen 197^+5 ^9)• Finally, the

Mexican government has been actively involved in holding down indus­ trial wages. 182

...by the mid-19'+0s the Mexican labor movement was firmly controlled by the ruling Partido Revolucionario Institucional and the governing elite that dominated it. Union leaders who objected too openly to the falling trend in real wages were often replaced by others more amenable to the dictates of the new political elite (Hansen 197^:50).

Despite these extensive inducements to private investment in industry, Hansen argues that the miracle of Mexican economic develop­ ment continues to be founded upon agriculture, V/ith an annual pro­ duction increase of since 1935» the agricultural sector has attained near self-sufficiency in feeding a rapidly growing population.

Since 19^0, food exports have risen at 6^ per year, and have accounted for 25^ to 50^ of the country's total merchandise export receipts. In turn,

The rapidly expanding foreign exchange earnings of the agri­ cultural sector have been used to finance the import require­ ments for Mexican industrialization, and are in great part responsible for the absence of a foreign exchange bottleneck in Mexican development efforts to date (Hansen 197^'-•

This agricultural expansion has significantly been accomplished with a reduction in the work force actually employed in agriculture, from 65^ in 19^0 to less than 50^ in 1970 (Hansen 197^5^1). Increas­ ingly capital-intensive, Mexican farming has thus freed a large labor force, now available for urban employment. As Hansen notes, the re­ sulting urban migration has "kept wages low, sustained high profits, and encouraged further investment" in industry (I97^s59). And finally, of those remaining behind in the hinterland,

A proportionally small but growing rural middle class can afford to p'urchase most products of Mexican industry, includ­ ing consumer durables ... some manufactured products — shoes, basic agricultural implements and processed foodstuffs, for example — are purchased even by the poorer segments of rural Mexican society (Hansen 197^5 59). 183

Despite increases in purchasing power, mobility and new job opportunities for the Mexican worker, Hansen is forced to conclude that the Mexican miracle has overwhelmingly benefited the rich. The income inequality between the wealthy and the poor exceeds that of almost every other Latin American country (Hansen 197^t71)o Between

1950 and 19631 the share of personal income received by the poorer 50^ of Mexico's families dropped from 19ol^ to 15.5/a« There has likewise been a significant drop in the income of the upper 109a of Mexican families, yet by I963 they still shared over kC^ of total income.

In human terms the increasing gulf between rich and poor is most evident in the agricultural sector. Farming income is less equi­ tably distributed than in any other economic sector — industry, com­ merce, or the services; "^3 percent of Mexico's families had a monthly income of or less; two-thirds of those families derived their in­ come from the agricultural sector" (Hansen 197^!77-78). Evidence for the rureJL disparity in wealth may be found quickly in the distribution* of Mexican cropland.

In i960, 1,^ percent of all holdings contained over 36 percent of Mexico's croplands, while half of the landholders worked less than 12 percent. Over 90 percent of all holdings up to 10 hectares can be classed as minifundia. Only a very small proportion of them receive an adequate supply of water, whether from rain or irrigation, to produce enough food for minimum family needs (Hansen 197^:79).

The problem, then, is not simply one of unequal distribution. It is one of unequally distributed quality, of the concentration of irrigated lands in the hsinds of a minority of farmers. Thus, 8^493 of all holdings in Mexico are found on only 3.^ of the irrigated lands; conversely, large holdings (those with a i960 production value of S8,000) account I8if

for only 0,593 of the total number of holdings, but control over 57%

of the irrigated lajids (Hansen 197'<':80),

In the balance, economic development since the Revolution has

indeed been remarkable. Social welfare for the majority of Mexicans,

workers and small farmers, mestizos and Indians, has been largely

ignored.

Agricultural Development; Policy and Practice

An understanding of the remarkable incompatability of economic

development and social welfare in Mexico, and ironically of the sub­

ordinate position of Yaqui farmers in southern Sonora, rests on one

essential and simple fact. Irrigation agriculture is substsmtially

more productive than dry farming. Irrigation has funded Mexico's

marked economic grov/th in the 20th century. And non-irrigated farm­

lands, already allocated or still available for distribution, serve to

dampen rising expectations in the countryside and to maintain a revo­

lutionary ideology of tierra ^ libertad, land and liberty.

The peasants are still as poor as ever but they remain attached to the revolution which gave them what they desired most: a patch of ground. ... They remember C^denas and they wait patiently for better days (Chevalier 1967:186-18?).

And many peasants own no more, literally, than a patch of

ground. Farms classified as "below subsistence," by value of produc­

tion ($0 to $80) account for over 505*3 of the number of holdings in

Mexico, These same minifundia control only 15»69o of the country's

arable land and contributed less than 5^ of Mexico's agricultural pro­

duction. None of these small farms utilized any significant amount of 185 irrigated land. By contrast, farms valued from $^+00 to above $8,000 accounted for only 16% of all holdings but controlled 96?o of the country's irrigated land and produced 79^ of the agricultural output

(Hansen 197^s80).

A cursory examination of the history of land distribution and irrigation development points to additioneil inequities. Major hy­ draulic works were completed only after the majority of recipients had been given land. As Table 5 indicates, the majority of the cumulative total of beneficiaries through 1958 had ailready received their lands by the end of the Cardenas administration. However, very little of this land — only 262,000 hectares out of the 25*62^,000 hectares dis­ tributed up to 19^ — was irrigated.

Moreover, irrigation works have not coincided with the distri­ bution of population in Mexico. By I960, the arid north, from Baja

California across to Nuevo Leon and Tamaulipas on the Gulf coast, con­ tained of the country's irrigated lands but only 20,8^ of the population (Barkin and King 1970:58, 62). Mexican peasants, as heirs to the ideology of the Revolution, have received little economic benefit,

Mexico's northern states, and more specifically the rich irri­ gated valleys of coastal Sinaloa and Sonora, have been both the beneficiaries and victims of the "Green Revolution" of the last three decades. Initiated by the Rockefeller Foundation and the Mexican ministry of agriculture in 19^3* the program has attempted to "increase the production of the basic food crops through the genetic improvement of plant varieties, the improvement of the soil and the control of 186

Table 5« Distribution of lands by presidential term, 192^-1958.

Cumulative Cumulative Land Distri- Cumulative Irrigated bution (hec- Number of ^ Lands (hec- Administration tares)®^ Recipients tares)®

Calles 192if-1928 i+,27^,625 k78^62k 2,000 Portes Gil 1928-1930 5,982,375 650,201 Ortiz Rubio 1930-1932 6,926,913 714,774 148,600 Rodriguez 1932-193^ 7,717,607 783,330 C^denas 193^-19^ 25,624,036 1,594,487 261,995 Avila Camacho 19^0-19^6 31,568, if85 1,752,023 774,149 Alera& 19^6-1952 36,ifl2,608 1,849,414 1,111,299 Ruiz Cortines 1952-1958 ifl,3^+9, 276 2,081,302 1,500,039

^Hansen 197^:33 ^Hansen 197^:3^+ °Orive Alba I960;passim 18? insect pests and plant diseases" (Wellhausen 1976:129). Much of the

Rockefeller Foundation's early research was devoted to Mexican wheat, the raajor crop of the irrigated northwest stateso A rust-resistant variety increased productivity markedly in the 1950s, followed by a dwarf strain in the early 1960s which successfully combated the lodg­ ing problem — the tendency of long-stem varieties to become topheavy and fall over (Wellhausen 1976:130, 132).

The new varieties of wheat, however, are closely tied to an expensive technological package, demanding carefully controlled irri­ gation and drainage, diligent weeding, and heavy applications of fertilizer. These necessary technological inputs prevent the effective spread of the new grain varieties to subsistence farmers working small, unirrigated plots. Thus the growth of Mexico's irrigated northwest has been fostered at the expense of the remainder of the country

(Cleaver 1972:91). Within the region, however, the benefits have been unevenly distributed: the highly productive wheat has increasingly displaced subsistence crops, forcing growers to purchase necessary foodstuffs in the market.

In an attempt to quantify Sonora's dependence on commercial, export agriculture, W. Whitney Hicks (1969) has developed a set of crop "location coefficients." A coefficient of 1.00 indicates that

Sonora neither exports nor imports the crop; values of less than 1.00 indicate that the state is a net importer of that crop, while values above 1.00 show net exportation. Thus, for selected crops. Hicks presents the figures in Table 6. Sonora exports much of its agricul­ tural production, but must import basic subsistence foods such as corn 188

Table 6. Location coefficients for Sonoran crops.

Crop 1950 I960

Cotton 2.50 8.11 Wheat 16.15 l6.Mf Sesame 5.05 6.75 Flax 5'+.71 30.13 Tomatoes loOif 2.16 V/atermelons ^.79 h.92 Rice 15.66 9.27 Barley 0.38 3.03 Corn 0A2 0.68 Beans 0,82 1.09

Source: Hicks 19^9 189 and, in the 1950s, beans. The magnitude of this export orientation is hei^tened by the fact that almost 73% of Sonera's cropland is devoted to v/heat and cotton, the state's two prime exportso

The Economic Consequences of Expropriation in the Yaqui Valley

Irrigated and commercialized, the Yaqui Valley has for most of its contemporary history been a setting for economic development, not social welfare. It has been a territorial stronghold of large-scale, productive, and export-oriented farmers and agricultural financiers.

Their local opulance has been condoned by a succession of presidential administrations struggling to feed a growing population and novirish a fledgling industrial economy.

Why, then, did President Echeverria at the close of the sexenio seemingly alter the entire function of the rich valley, to make it a mon\imental showcase for social welfare and the satisfaction of revolu­ tionary expectations held by a mass of landless campesinos? Who stands to gain, economically? And who are the losers, in the aftermath of San

Ignacio and subsequent events? The answers can only be speculative, for the economic ramifications of expropriation will remain unknown and unsettled for many years. The existing data for making such specula­ tions are sparse as well, and on some important issues, contradictory.

The key question is a simple one of output. To what extent will the productivity of Valley agriculture drop aB lands are tvirned over to campesinos? Several studies have addressed this question, indirectly and discrepantly, Haag and Rioseco (I965) draw extensive comparisons of yields for different categories of Valle ejidatarios 190 and private farmers. They conclude that significant differences did occur: for wheat, 2,862 kg.per hectare of ejidos and of private farms; for corn, 2,958 vs. (Haag and Rioseco 1965:52). For cotton, too, the private farms out-produced ejidos: 2,079 kg. to

2,501 (Haag and Rioseco 1965:52).

Donald Freebairn (1965) reads a different conclusion into quite similar production variations. His category of "private farms" (with an average of 151 hectares of cropland) shov;ed yields of 1,900 kg. per hectare of cotton and 2,560 of wheat. Collective ejido farms, averag­ ing 676 hectares, yielded 1,650 of cotton and 2,260 of wheat. Finally, individual ejido parcels of I8 hectares produced an average of 1,870 kg. and 2,250 of cotton and wheat, respectively. Freebairn (19655

1156) then suggests that.

Although cotton yields were lower for the study year on the collective farms than on either the private farms of the individual ejidal parcels, it is generally observed that there sire no significant differences in crop yields between tenure classes.

Freebairn to the contrary, the differences are real and cannot be so readily ignored. But the cause cannot be quickly found in "lack of incentives" for ejidal farmers, in inefficiency or graft on communal lands. More incisively, Raymond Carr (I969) notes several factors which have contributed to this differential in yields throughout

Mexico. Of primary importance were provisions in the Agrarian Codes of 195^ and 19^+2 allowing the former landowners of expropriated estates to retain 100 hectares of irrigated land. As Carr (1969:I61) observes.

Obviously the landowner chose the best irrigated land surround­ ing the casco—i.e., the heart of the estate with the buildings and other capital equipment. Just as in Russia, the landowner hived off the bad land on the beneficiaries of reform. 191

Of equal importance, especially in the Mexican northwest, is the implication of the "Dumont effect" (Dumont 1965)i

If agrarian reform is legally possible, but if in fact it is unlikely to affect the good producer, then there is every incentive to produce well and to invest in higher production in order to strengthen the case for private property. If expropriation is a near certainty, then disinvestment will take place (Carr 1969:161).

Additional factors also contribute to differential productivity between ejidos and private farms; credit is easier to obtain by the private fanner than by the ejidal farmer; individual plots on ejidos are too small to farm efficiently; and tenure arrangements of ejidos are con­ sidered to be too stable and legally inflexible, thus, as Carr (1969:

162) notes, "... preventing the enterprising peasant from extending his holding at the expense of the unenterprising."

Added to these are some factors peculiar to the demainds of export, irrigated agriculture in the Mexican northwest. Private farms are over-capitalized. As Freebairn (1963:1159) observes, from an economic standpoint, individual owners "had more farm machinery than could be efficiently utilized." He presents data to indicate that private farmers had $121.28 of machinery and equipment per hectare of cropland. Collective ejidos had, in the early 1960s, S6I.3O per hec­ tare, while individual ejiditarios possessed $59»56 of equipment (Free­ bairn 1963:1155)• In real terms, the greater availability of equipment to private farms gives them a substantial technological advantage: they have the machines on hand, sitting idle much of the year, to carry out the farming operations at precise moments. Land can be prepared when needed; planting can be done at the optimum time; and the harvest can be brought in swiftly and efficiently. Under-capitalized ejidos 192 and small-scale private farms, on the other hand, must await the availability of machines, rented from large, private farms or from machine contractors in the Valley.

The question of productivity, then, seems to rest on the avail­ ability of capital, not on the mode of land tenure. Were ejidos to be financed with technology equivalent to the large farms, they could be equally productive.

The centrality of capital inputs has another ramification, of crucial importance: in losing their land to campesinos, the former latifundistas will relinguish little economic control over the region's export agriculture. Through powerfiil and efficient credit unions, private agribusiness dominates the key nodes in the production and distribution of export crops.

In the 1960s, three major credit iinions offered multiple ser­ vices to over 90^ of the private farms. As Haag and Rioseco (196551^) summarize,

The designation of these organizations as credit unions is somewhat misleading because they are more nearly multi­ purpose farmers' organizations or cooperatives. Their primary purpose is to provide credit for members, usually larger far­ mers than those served by the federal agricultural bsinks. They also obtain supplies for members and usually market all their production. Storage and processing as well as merchan­ dising facilities are provided. Their operations therefore make them very importajit units in the marketing structure of the Valley.

Actual membership in the unions is limited to farming stock­ holders. In addition to the sale of bonds, the credit unions generate capital by taxing the proceeds of the sale of members' agricultural products. Finally, 5 to 10^ of the credit associations' yearly 195

earnings are set aside to build up capital reserves (Haag and Rioseco

1965:1^)« Much of the capital thus generated by the unions goes into

the construction of grain storage facilities. By 1963? the three

coops had come to dominate storage in the Valle. Total grain storage

capacity in I963 was 32^,300 tons; of this, the credit unions operated

facilities for 190,500 tons. Of significance, too, is the fact that

81^ of the credit unions' storage facilities was fully mechanized,

while only l6^ of the government-owned facilities was mechanizeda

V/ith modern and efficient storage, the credit unions were in a position

to charge substantially higher rates (15 pesos per ton monthly, as

compared to a rate of 3 pesos charged by government-operated facili­

ties) for the storage of grain (Haag and Rioseco 1965:60-61).

Private farmers and credit unions likewise controlled much of

the transport facilities in the Valle. Large-scale farmers hauled

much of the grain to storage in their own trucks, while government-

financed ejidos were forced to hire truckers to transport their produce

(Haag and Rioseco 1965:61-62).

An ultimate irony in the economics of Valle agriculture appears

in the realm of credit. In the 1960s, when both agricultural produc­

tivity and credit facilities were expanding, government agencies could

finance only of their own wheat-producing ejidos. The remaining

ejidoB were financed by private credit unions, small-scale middlemen,

and private landowners (Haag and Rioseco 1965:55)• Thus even in the

1960s (before Echeverria's extensive expropriations), the national

government did not have the funds to remain independent of private ig't

interests in the region. Under a regime of capital-intensive agricul­ ture, the reforms in land tenure had outstripped the government's ability to finance ejidos. Echeverria may indeed have fulfilled the revolutionary dreams of many landless carapesinos, but his successors will still face the problem of financing the Green Revolution, They will inevitably turn to the owners of capital in the Valle: to the latifundistas who lost only their land, not their finaaicial resources.

Dependency in the Zona

Ecologically, the Yaqui Zone differs little from the Mexican

Valley, Farm plots are smaller and more irregular in shape than in the Valle; canails and drains depart from the tidy grid pattern around

Obregon, But the lands are the same, as are the demeinds for v:ater and capital inputs. In the following sections I will look more closely at these demands and the divergent Yaqui responses to them.

Irrigation Agriculture in Potam

V/ith the transition from a precarious cultivation based on rainfall and floodwater to a fully developed irrigation system, Yaqui agriculture has altered significantly. The certeiinty of making a living has increased, but economic autonomy has not. Autonomy has been restricted as capital inputs to the agriculttiral system become increasingly importaint. The labor-intensive cultivation of flood-plain and small plot is an anachronism now replaced by the capital-intensive farming of large tracts of watered delta,

Yaqui commercial agriculture consists of several steps: acqui­ sition and clearing of land, leveling and plowing, planting, watering, 195 weeding, applying insecticides, harvesting, marketing. At only a few points in the cycle is manual labor required, primarily during the initial clearing of a plot, weeding, and watering. The work at most other stages of the process is mechanized.

Acquisition and Clearing. To begin farming a new plot, a Yaqui must obtain the consent of both the pueblo governors and the Secretario de Recursos Hidraulicos (SRH) with its allied funding agency, the Banco

Rural. Receiving a petition for use of an uncultivated field, the governors must decide first that the petitioner is Yaqui and has thus the right to work land in the zone. Second, they must discover whether the plot is indeed vacant, unworked by other members of the puebloo

Much of the land now uncultivated around Potam still "belongs" to indi­ viduals and families. Observations by Bartell in the 1950s prove equally valid now.

According to the governors, lands granted to Yaquis are not given permanently to a Yaqui. Ideally, upon the death of a Yaqui, the heirs should re-petition the governors to continue to work that parcel. However, this is seldom done (Bartell 1965:139).

This holds true even for land long out of production; Yaqui families still maintain nominal control over lands that are no longer arable, lands along the dry river bed which now lie outside the net of irri­ gation canals and drains. Eventually, some hope, the canals will be extended to these lands, making them productive once again.

If no informal titles to the desired plots are uncovered by the pueblo governors, the petition will be provisionally granted to the individual requesting usufruct. At this point, the judgments of the Bainco and SRH are required. An inspector de campo, working 196

jointly for the Banco and SRH, is sent to the parcel to determine the

feasibility of irrigating and cultivating the plot. It must lie within

or near the existing irrigation system and must be relatively free from

salinization. If the plot meets these specifications, the inspector

will give tentative permission to the petitioner for clearing and cul­

tivating.

Once permission is received, the farmer will clear the brush

and construct the necessary diversion canals to reach his land, A laborious process, clearing involves the cutting, piling, and burning

of recalcitrant monteo Canal building can be equally hard, depending

upon the proximity of the plot to existing canals and the willingness of owners of adjacent fields to allow a new farmer to tie into the present network of diversion ditches. According to informants, this willingness is frequently not forthcoming. In some cases, too, the established informal cooperation between two adjacent farmers to use a common canal for both fields may be abruptly terminated, forcing the new farmer to construct a redundant set of feeder canals to his plot.

Leveling and Plowinge V/hen the plot has been cleared and the canals dug, the farmer must contract for the preparation of the land for planting. Few Yaquis in the Zone own the required machinery — tractor and plow — to carry out the leveling and furrowing of land.

And, through lack of ownership, few have acquired the skills necessary for these operations. Thus machinery and operators must be hired, occasionally through the small number of Yaquis who do own equipment, but much more often through private contractors in Obregdh. 197

Apart from the cost — 200 pesos per hectare for leveling and

plowing — this process creates ecological problems. For optimum

yields, the primary winter crop of wheat and c^tamo must be planted

within the span of about a week in mid-December. Throughout the Yaqui

Valley, then, fields must be plowed and leveled in eairly December.

Inevitably, this results in careless, hasty preparation of fields, a

problem avoided by rich landowners who are able to afford their own

machinery. Careless leveling (a tendency more prevalent in the indi­

genous Zona than in the adjacent Valle) greatly increases the danger

of salinization (Dula N. 1963)t the mineral-laden irrigation waters

drain poorly from unevenly leveled tracts. Patches of many fields

around Potam and throughout the Yaqui zone have thus become duro, hard

and unproductive areas which must be abandoned entirely or left fallow long enough for the salt to wash out, through several seasons of heavy rains.

Planting. For commercial crops grown on large tracts (several hectares to tens of hectares in size), planting is most effectively

done by tractor, incurring another 120 pesos per hectare for hiring equipment and operators. Additionally, seed must be purchased from local storekeepers or grainaries in Obregdh. Seed prices run from 7 to

11 pesos per kg, with about 20 kg. required to plant one hectare. A farmer, then, must lay out between l40 and 220 pesos per hectare.

Irrigating. Once plowed and planted, fields must be watered periodically throughout the growing season. Manual labor involved in irrigating is performed by the farmer: cutting the break in his feeder canals when his fields sire schedules to be watered, and subsequently repairing the cansil to cut off the water flow. Farmers are charged

100 pesos per hectare for a watering.

V/eeding. Next to the initial clearing of a plot, weeding de­ mands the highest labor input from the farmer. The amount of weeding varies with the type of crop being grown. At one extreme, the large- leafed cartamo demands very little weeding. Beans, on the other hand, demand frequent and careful weeding; one hectare may require two to three days of difficult labor per weeding from the farmer and his family.

Fertilizer and Insecticides. V'ith sufficient water, the soils of the Yaqui valley are highly productive. Yet optimum yields neces­ sitate simple fertilization with nitrogen and phosphorous, costing the farmer roughly ^00 pesos per hectare (Rodriguez Cisneros et al, n,d,:

219). At a cost of 200 pesos per hectare, pesticides must also be applied, as an insurance against damaging plagues. Fertilizers and pesticides require no labor input from the farmer since they are applied by tractor and airplane.

Harvesting. Like v;eeding, the labor input to harvesting varies with the nature of the crop. Wheat is reaped by machine, while beans sire most easily harvested by hand. Corn is harvested manually, but mechanically shucked and sacked. I obtained no cost figures for hsir- vesting, but Bartell (1965:199) quotes a price of 160 pesos per hec­ tare for wheat. His I96O figures for other capital inputs average 199 roughly 50^ lower than the prices I obtained, so a current cost of

320 pesos per hectare for wheat harvesting is not an unreasonable ex­ trapolation®

Marketing. The finsil stage in the agricultural cycle offers a limited number of options to the Yaqui grower. Three outlets predomi­ nate: the Compaiixa Nacioneil de Subsistancia Populares (CONASUPO), the

Banco Rural, and private middlemen, CONASUPO, the government agency that serves as both purchaser and retailer of farm products, was created to,

...control price fluctuations in the basic food crops such as wheat, corn, rice, beans, and sugar, for the protection of farmers as well as consumers. Its functions include the pur­ chase, storage and distribution of these domestic crops and the sole right to import or export them. The Company there­ fore serves as the price guarantee and control agency for these food crops. Through it, the Mexican government aims to develop self-sufficiency and to stabilize market conditions (Haag and Rioseco 1965s8).

In the Yaqui Valley, CONASUPO purchases, directly or indirectly, the entire wheat crop from both private farmers and ejidatarios, so as to "make equitable distribution of the surplus production in the Valley to other parts of the country" (Haag and Rioseco 1965s 8). At the option of the seller, CONASUPO may also pxrrchase other crops grown in the valley. This option is attractive to some Yaqui farmers, for the proximity of the purchasing store in Potam to the fields reduces the cost of transportation. For its purchases, CONASUPO theoretically pays the government support price, a figure which is,

...reviewed periodically and adjusted as deemed necessary. Adjustments take into account not only increases in cost of production but often changes in consumers' incomes (Haag and Rioseco 1965s10), 200

Making this outlet less attractive, though, is the CONASUPO

policy of making discounts or deductions from the buying price. Dis­

counts are computed for excess impurities and moisture, low test weight

and damaged grains. For wheat, as aji example, deduction of 9 pesos per

ton v;ere made for each 19a of moisture over up to the maximim

allowable moisture content of 20?o„ V.'ith a support price of 913 pesos

per ton in 1965» this discount represents about 1^ of the total price

for v/heat with a moisture content of 15^ and a full 6^ off the price

for wheat with a 2C^ moisture content (Haag and Rioseco 1965:10). De­

ductions on corn were similar to those for wheat.

The discount was eight pesos per ton for each one percent of moisture over 1^ percent, up to a maximiam allowable of l8 per­ cent. The same amount, eight pesos, was deducted for each one percent of dockage over the five percent allowed. Corn having more than 10 percent of damaged grains was not accepted (Haag and Rioseco 1965:10).

For farmers unwilling to accept the stringent discount policy

of CONASUPO, the Banco Rural provides no alternative. The Banco buys

grain directly from ejidatarios, invoking a similar discount policy as

CONASUPO, and then turns its purchases over to CONASUPO for retail within the Yaqui Valley, or distribution to grain-deficient areas in

Mexico.

A third option utilized by Yaqui feirmerB is the private middle­ man, Two varieties of middlemen operate in the Yaqui Valley: the local merchant buying from small farmers for retail in his own store, and the seasonal buyer who purchases surpluses as harvest for transport and sale in other parts of the state (Haag and Rioseco 1965:19-20), In both cases, prices are significantly lower (15 to 20?^) than the support prices offered by CONASUPO and the Banco Rursil (Haag and Rioseco 201

1965:^8, 51)• Nevertheless, middlemen sales offer important advantages to the farmer. Middlemen ao-e, first, accustomed to purchasing at the farm, thus absorbing the treinsportation costs which a farmer must pay for sales to the Bcinco or CONASUPO. Second, middlemen are often will­ ing to buy small amounts from individual farmers, a practice which is less attractive to the large-scale operations of the Banco and

CONASUPO. Third, middlemen often pay immediately in cash. The farmer does not have to wait for the delayed returns that occur when he sells to government outlets. Finally, middlemen do not specifically deduct for quality, and are willing to purchase grains that exceed the accept­ able moisture content of the Banco and CONASUPO,

Thus a smsill farmer, without access to corn dryers or the machinery needed to carefully harvest wheat, is able to sell more of his surplus to middlemen, albeit at a lower price (cf. Haag and Rioseco

1965:12, 20). From the Haag and Rioseco survey and statements of my own informants, it appears that at-the-farm prices paid by middlemen are generally comparable to the actual prices given by government pur­ chasing agencies, once these latter buyers deduct for quality, handling and transport.

Summary; Capital and the Agricultural Cycle. In the preceding discussion of the farming cycle in Potam (which, according to inform-

Eints' statements, and my own observations, tends to hold true for the rest of the Yaqui Zone), the various capital inputs may be summgurized.

Overwhelmingly, Yaqui cultivation is capital-intensive: total produc­ tion costs (machinery and operators, water, insecticides and ferti­ lizers) per hectare are approximately 1,^00 pesos. In large measure, 202

this need for capital has determined the dependent role of Yaqui far­

mers on the productive northwest coast.

Sociedades and Particulares

Yaqui farmers have two options for obtaining the financing

required for irrigation agriculture. The first is to form a sociedad,

a cooperative farming organization operating under the frequently-

modified ejido laws of Mexico. More difficult initially but poten­

tially more rewarding is the second alternative; becoming a private

farmer, a particular, with the financial backing of a wealthy patron.

Sociedades. Cooperative farming organizations had tenuous

beginnings in the Yaqui Zone around 19^0:

From 1939 until the completion of the main canal Marcos Carillo in 1956 the majority of Yaquis derived their chief income from individual or family plots. However, some Yaquis were organ­ ized into sociedades with Banco Ejidal help prior to 1952, when the new Oviachi dam (Alvaro Obregdn) was completed. These Yaquis, mainly in Bataconsica (near Bacum), were supplied water from pumps from the smaller canals of the old dam at Angostxira. The other river pueblos had to depend on the same flood river agricultvire they had been using for centuries (Bartell 1965:181).

From these initial steps toward cooperative farming, the

sociedad system had grown substantially by the early 1960s. Bartell

estimates that, in 1962, about 755^ of all family heads in Potara were

organized into 32 sociedades (Bartell 1965:186). Similar estimates for the 1970s are difficult to obtain, however. Renting of sociedad land

to private farmers, a practice which is illegal under agrarian law, has

become widespread. Idle sociedad lands are also abundant, due to past salinization and poor productivity or to the failure of socios to obtain adequate financing. And a simple count of socios has become 203 rather misleading: many sociedad members are particulares as well, often deriving more income from private farms thain from their collec­ tive arrangements. Irapressionistically, though, it appears that by

1975 the number of full-time socios had declined substantially from the 1962 estimate of 755^ of family heads for Potam.

To form a sociedad, a group of men, minimally eight, must peti­ tion the Yaqui governors for an available tract of land. Once the governors agree on the availability of the plot, a formal petition signed by the petitioners and the signatories of the pueblo, is for­ warded to the offices of the Banco Rural. Together with SRH, the Banco decides on the feasibility of irrigating the sociedad's land and fi­ nancing the farming operation. Then, with the Banco's assent, the sociedad may begin cultivation. In recent years, an unofficial mora­ torium on new sociedades in the Yaqui Zone has been in effect, an apparent result of a steadily worsening economic situation in the country as a whole; the credit previously available to sociedades has been restricted. Additionally, there appears to be a feeling among

Banco auid SRH officials that most of the available arable land in the

Yaqui Zone is already under production in existing sociedades and pri­ vate farms. New sociedades must await the extension of canad networks to additional lands, a project which currently has a lower priority than refurbishing the existing network.

Once officially sanctioned by the Banco, the sociedad proceeds to elect its officials. Each sociedad consists, theoretically (see

Bartell 1965:177; Erasmus I967), of two separate governing bodies, the comisariado e.jidal and the consejo de vigilancia. The first, an 20k

executive committee of president, secretary, and treasurer, is respon­

sible for the operation of the sociedad and for conducting the neces­

sary affairs with the BancOo The vigilance committee acts essentially

as a check on the executive committee, to assure that the president and

his chosen officials operate within the stipulations of agrarian law

and to see that each socio obtains a fair share of work and profits. •

Financing of the sociedad is carried out through the Banco.

The initial capitail costs of a sociedad are vsa-iable. Most sociedades

in and around Fotam possessed trucks in various states of disrepair,

and a few had purchased their own cultivating machineryo These initial

acquisitions are funded by the bank, which then extracts a percentage

of the sociedad's profits over severed years to pay off the debt.

Additional costs of production are funded and debited by the Banco in

the same manner. In their supervisory capacity. Banco officials con­

tract with SRH and with private machinery operators for the provision

of water, the preparation and planting of the land, harvesting, and

transporting crops to the Banco warehouses or CONASUPO outlets. All

of these expenses are then deducted from the sociedad profits, adong

with a tax on yields, amounting to 10^, out of which the Banco pays the salaries of sociedad officials and covers its own operational

expenses.

Individual socios receive payment for their work in two forms.

First, they are paid according to the number of days they work for the sociedad, clearing and preparing the land, weeding, and irrigating.

Payment is made by the Banco either directly in cash or through the establishment of credit at local stores for the piurchase of basic 205

provisions. A second payment comes after harvest, in the form of a

"liquidation," a distribution of the profits that remain once tha bank

has deducted its operation costs and reduced the initial debt of the

sociedad.

The income of individual socios is difficult to calculate.

Sociedades differ greatly in the size and productivity of their lands,

the amount of the original debt, and the number of socios sharing in

the work and profits. Moreover, few socios rely entirely on Banco

payments for their income: maiiy also operate private farms in con­

junction with kinsmen. On the basis of my discussions with socios and

observations of living standards, though, it became apparent that few

farmers realized a great profit through their sociedades. Nor, how­

ever, did socios suffer extreme poverty; the general availability of

store credit keeps most of them adequately provisioned.

Neither realizing nor expecting great profits from their labors,

socios nevertheless gain other amenities, most importantly an insiurance

against disaster. This instance is of two forms: crop insurance, by

which the sociedad will be refunded 259b of the market value of their

crop in the event of destruction from plagues, wind, and rain; and

individual access to the medical facilities of government-run clinics.

Free heailth care provides an important incentive to sociedad member­ ship, for it extends to the socio*s nuclear family.

The contemporary situation of the Yaqui socio must be placed

in perspective, though, both to the economy of the zone prior to the construction of massive irrigation works and to the alternatives open to Yaqui farmers under the current agricultural regime. Financed and 206 advised by the Banco Rural» sociedades no longer have the autonomy to

decide what crops to plant. They must sow the crops dictated by national policy: in the Yaqui Zone, these are wheat and c^tamo. An oil-seed, cartamo is of no importance in Yaqui subsistence. V/heat is an important element in Yaqui diets, but must be sold to the Banco, processed by non-Yaqui millers, and repackaged for retail back to the

Yaqui growers. Thus, under bank policy, Yaqui farmers who are ex­ clusively socios are necessarily dependent on the msirket for their subsistence goods. The dependencies of the past — on uncertain water supplies, lov; yields, and precarious land tenure — have been replaced by a new dependency on the retail stores and the vagaries of price fluctuations in basic commodities.

An attractive but difficult alternative — or partial alterna­ tive — to the sociedad system in the Yaqui Zone is "private farming," becoming a client to a wealthy patron.

Particulgires. Ideally, private Yaqui farmers obtain land in a manner similar to socios, by petitioning the pueblo governors, then satisfying SRH as to the feasibility of irrigating and cropping the plot. In practice, particulares have acquired farms through diverse means. Most common is the simple inheritance of arable land from rela­ tives. Land appears to be inherited predominantly through patrilineal relations, but in several observed cases the particular worked lands inherited by wives. Thus, in one instance, a man and his wife's father jointly worked lands which the wife's father had already passed to his daughter, to be held in trust for their children. In addition to 207 working his wife's land, the man also cultivated a plot separated by several miles from his first farm, but near to the fields of his own paternal uncle. In general, land inheritance is less determined by strict lineal descent and more by the availability of labor to culti­ vate the farms. In the above case, the man's father-in-lavr had no surviving brothers or sons to assist him and was no longer associated with his wife. His daughter and her husband, though, had four young sons who would eventually require land. The work unit of the man and his wife's father provided an adequate labor force to cultivate the land until the boys were old enough to participate themselves.

Land may be acquired by particulares through other routes® Bor­ rowing and renting land from sociedades or other particulares are common practices. Frequently, socios or particulares will cease to cultivate their plots because of attrition by death in the sociedad, curtailing of credit as a result of malfeasance or sociedad officials, lack of adequate financing for a particular, alternative occupations such as fishing, or burdensome political and ceremonial duties in the pueblo. These idle lands may be acquired by particulares through in­ formal agreements with various stipulations. In some cases, the par­ ticular will pay the former owner a rent, either cash or a part of the harvest. In others, land may simply be borrowed and worked for several seasons, until the original farmer is able to obtain the requisite capital or family labor to work the land himself.

Neither renting nor borrowing are positively sanctioned by

Mexican agrarian statutes, nor by traditioneil Yaqui law. In theory« ejidal law precludes renting sociedad Ismd to non-members, Yaqui law 208

likewise implies that farmers leaving their lands idle should retain

no rights over them. These prohibitions are not actively enforced, for

reasons which are not explicitly voiced by either the agrarian offi­

cials or the pueblo governors. Informally, the Banco Rural and SRH

acknowledge that land may often be more productively and efficiently

used by private farmers who irrigate and weed more carefully and who,

furthermore, do not overtax the Banco's limited credit facilitieso

And Yaqui officials realize that an individual's ability to continu­

ously feirra a plot is nov; subject to the vagaries of the credit supply

and availability of labor, inputs which may fluctuate from year to

year. Thus, idle land may represent a farmer's inability, not his un­

willingness, to cultivate, and he thus should not entirely lose his

right to these lands.

Once land has been acquired (through inheritance, renting,

borrowing, or petitioning), the particular must obtain the necessary

financing and labor to clear and cultivate. As with sociedad farming,

the labor requirements of the particular are heavy only during the

stages of initial clearing of the plot, and the periodic weeding de­

manded by some crops. Capital demands, however, are frequently heavier

and more pressing than those encountered by the sociedades. Much of

sociedad farming is carried out on credit, with socios accountable for

the costs incurred during production only after the harvest is in.

Particulares, on the other hand, are forced in most cases to pay these

costs as they are incurred: seed, water, fertilizer and rental machin­

ery must be paid for at the time they are delivered or utilized® And 209

few Yaquis have the cash on hand prior to heirvest for meeting these

expenses.

To overcome this capital shortage, successful particulares have

entered into clientele relationships with local Mexicans — store­

keepers, farm machinery contractors, or other wealthy residents of the

Yaqui Zone, Over time, informal contracts evolve in which the Mexican

patron sells seed and provides operational capital and credit to the

particular, in return for a share of the harvest, which is then sold

through local stores. Shopkeepers profit by retaining steadily pro­

ducing clients and often reduce the price of seed below that charged

to socios by the Banco, Patrons also, in most cases, handle the task

of contracting for machinery and water, as well as the transport of the

harvest from field to storage or retail outlet. The Yaqui farmer, for

his part, bears the responsibility of clearing, weeding and irrigating,

plus any additional technical tasks associated with the agricultural

cycle.

The percentage of profits extracted by patrons varies widely

from case to case, ranging as high as 50% of the harvest after deduct­

ing for his expenditures. By most accounts, though, these relations

are beneficial to both patron and client. These mutual benefits derive,

primarily, from the fact that financiers and growers can select their

own mix of crops, free of the dictates of the Banco Rural. Thus, par­

ticulares grow much of the subsistence crops shunned by the Banco in

favor of commercial, export crops. Under the export orientation of

Mexico's northwest coast, an artificial vacuum of subsistence items

-- corn and beans especially, but also a wide range of vegetables — 210 has been created and is being filled locally by Yaqui particulares.

By financing the farming operations of Yaquis, storekeepers can obtain a stock of subsistence goods locally, avoiding the transport costs in­ volved in importing such items from outside the region. At the same time, private Yaqui farmers, even when turning over a sizable portion of their harvest to patrons, can retain enough to substantially reduce the expense of buying subsistence goods in the market.

Particular farming does, however, have several disadvantages.

Private farmers qualify neither for the crop insurance offered by the

Banco to sociedades, nor for the medical treatment automaticailly avail­ able to socios. Moreover, getting started as a particular is more dif­ ficult than forming or joining a sociedad. Once a particular finds the necessary land, he is faced with the problem of obtaining a creditor willing to back his farming operations. Potential patrons are abundant in Estacidn Vicam and, less so, in Potam. But few are willing to risk their capital on an inexperienced or unproven farmer, working land of untested quality. When a patron is found under these conditions, he will be likely to extract an exorbitant percentage of the yields to cover his initial, risky investment. To the extent that both farmer and land do prove successful, and both patron and client wish to con­ tinue the informsil contract, these percentages will over time become more equitable to the particular.

Another difficulty and source of conflict within Potam and other pueblos in the Zone faces the particular. A client who lacks the requisite household labor to clear his land must hire additional workers. In the cases observed or reported on, these hired laborers 211

were primarily drawn from the farmer's network of compadres, but the

terms of employment were not the reciprocal ones traditionally associ­

ated with co-parenthoodo Rather, they were employer-employee ties, on

a cash basis. Frequently, though, a pairticular will not have the cash

on hand prior to harvest to pay off his hired help. And few patrons

seemed willing to pay for this preliminary stage of the agricultural

cycle, choosing instead to provide cash or credit only for the subsis­

tence needs of the client and his immediate family. Thus, particulares

may be forced into forstalling payment to hired hands, with the nearly

inevitable result of festering ill-will between employer and employees,

between ritual co-parents, often residents of the ssime barrio. In

addition to the potential disruption of ritual obligations betv/een co-

parents, these disputes find expression in gossip about the employer,

severely reducing his ability to recruit labor in the future.

Other problems beset the untried particular. He will find

credit difficult to get at local stores, due again to the risk a patron-

storekeeper faces in financing a new client working new lands. The

particular may also be placed on a low priority by machinery contrac­

tors who have already established a schedule of plowing, planting and

harvesting for their client sociedades. Likewise, the novice particu­ lar may be last to receive his winter allocation, and may run into con­ flict with owners of adjacent fields regarding access to main canals.

While all of these difficulties may disrupt the operations of estab­ lished particulares as well as beginners, it appears that most of the logistical problems have been or can be worked out by a slow process 212 of accommodation with neighboring field owners, with storekeepers, and with machinery operators.

Over the course of several planting sesisons, then, a Yaqui par­ ticular can achieve a stable working relationship with his patron and with his neighbors. Over time, too, the originally particularistic ties between patron and client are likely to evolve into multiplistic social ties. Reciprocated social visits become increasingly frequent, co-parent relations may occasionally be established, and a great deal of information is exchanged across ethnic lines. Patrons begin to acquire a small vocabulary of Yaqui, usueilly little more than the tra­ ditional phrases of greeting and leave-taking. Yaquis, in turn, acquire a greater facility in the colloquial Spanish of the northwest.

And, through increased social contacts, the relatively strict cost- accounting of a new patron-client relationship is loosened. Goods and services are more freely exchanged between patron and client, and the percentage of profits extracted by the patron will gradually be re­ duced.

Once this stage of the clientele tie is achieved, the Yaqui particular may begin to prosper. And this prosperity, in the form of cash on hand, perhaps a new truck, new house of adobe, is evident to young Yaquis, providing an incentive to enter into patron-client ties and the particular system.

Summary; The Paradoxes of Development

The material of this chapter and the previous one — of the mechanics of agriculture in the Yaqui Zone and of the political economy 213

of southern Sonora — points to several ironies. In the preceding

chapter one paradox has been examined: Yaquis entered the confronta­ tion for land around Obregon with the strongest political organization of the groups locally involved, yet ultimately lost out to the deriva­ tive power and organization of the carapesinos. A paradox running through the present chapter is the Janus-faced character of the Yaqui polity. To the outside, in the political arenas of the region, Yaqui corporate polity displays a single-minded unity of interests ~ of obtaining land, of seeking a definitive solution to the boundary ques­ tion. Internally, the Yaqui polity is riven with conflict ~ most often between farmer and hired labor, but also between socio and pair- ticular over access to limited machinery and over the scheduling of water allotments. And, on a larger level, there is conflict over philosophies: some Yaquis demand increased economic and technologicsil assistance from the Mexican government; others seek more limited help, and more limited interference.

To this irony may be added several more, stemming directly from the fundamentals of export agriculture. First, in symbol and in fact, Yaquis retain political control over the lands of the Zona; eco­ nomically, though, they are at the mercy of outside financiers. And second, those Yaquis that appear to be making an adequate living are doing so by intruding subsistence crops into a commercial, export regime. And those who make it do so by operating outside the realm of national agrarian institutions, of the ejido. They make it, in short, by contravening both the national ideal of agrarian revolution and the 21k tribsQ. ideal of political and economic autonomy. They work for Mexican patrones.

Internally weakened then, over the issue of capital inputs, the polity is externally strengthened over the issue of land; Yaquis can unite, as they perennially do, around the demand for territory, be­ cause that demand does not implicate the more crucial and rupturing issue of finance.

Yaqui fishermen have largely escaped these paradoxes. They are politically and economically successful and autonomous. But they manifest a new irony: as a group, they are unconcerned with the tra­ ditional symbols and behaviors of Yaqui ethnic identity. I will examine this case in the next chapter. CHAPTER 7

LOS PESCADORES: MARGINAL RESOURCES AND POLITICAL SUCCESS

From the middle of August to Christmastime, Guasimas and Lobos on the coast become centers of intense fishing® The year-long resi­ dents of Guasimas and the seasonal occupants of the Lobos camp set out soon after dawn in motor-driven, fiberglass boats (canoas or pangas) of about 18 feet, to net-cast for shrimp® Returning to shore around noon, the two- or three-man crews de-head the catch, weigh it, and pack it in refrigerated trucks for tremsport to Guaymas, then on to processors across the border in San Diego. Once the catch is packed and shipped, the fisherman return to their houses — mostly tar-paper shacks at

Lobos, cinderblock houses up the coast at Guasimas — and relax, eat, gossip, and mend their attarayas, cast-nets.

The Yaqui shrimp cooperative, the Sociedad Cooperativa de

Produccion Pesquera, "Communidades Yaquis'' S.C.L., has since its tenta­ tive beginnings in the 1950s achieved marked financial success, ex­ panded to encompass two large bays and a number of estuary camps, di­ versified its operation to include its own ice-making plant and fish flour grinder, and continued to maintain virtual autonomy from Mexican interference. Yaqui shrimping thus stands in direct contrast to Yaqui agriculture. Yaqui fishermen sind the cooperative directors control all phases of the production and distribution processes and, through

215 216 recent presidential decrees, have attained exclusive rights to fish resoiu'ces off the Yaqui Zone. With its marked success, economically in general and also in the arena of resoiirce competition between Yaqui and Mexican, the fishing coop has become a source of pride for the whole tribe, a symbolic expression of long-held, frequently unrealized values of autonomy and territorial integrity. Paradoxically, though^

Yaqui fishermen are by no means the most active supporters of, nor the most frequent participants in, the more obvious manifestations of Yaqui identity -- the ceremonial and political systems, the traditional dress, the Yaqui language. More precisely, the paradox is this: the greater success of Yaqui fishermen and their corporate organization in gaining exclusive access to resources has not resulted in, nor has it been caused by, an intensification of "Yaquiness." Contrary to the expec­ tations of Despres (1975) and others, the fishing coop provides evi­ dence for an almost inverse relation between competitive success and the cultural content of ethnicity. This chapter will seek to explain this apparent deviation from ejqjectations.

History and Organization of the Fishing Cooperative

Only since 1957• with the founding of the fishing cooperative at Guasimas, have the littoral resoiu'ces of the Yaqui Zone played a major role in the tribe's economy. Previously, the fish and shellfish of the coastal estuaries and mud-flats provided at best only supple­ mentary nutrition and income to agriculture and the wild resoixrces of the monte. By 1957i several Yaquis had become professional fishermen, but on Mexican, not Yaqui, boats working the offshore shrimp beds of 217 the Gulf of California (Bartell 1965:261). Motivated apparently by the productive possibilities of the Yaqui coast and the existence of this group of knowledgeable Yaqui fishermen living outside the Zone,

Dolores Matus of Estacion Vicam initiated a petition to form the co­ operative at Guasimas. As an unofficial go-between, Matus had the backing of the traditional Yaaui authorities and the resident Mexican officials in Vicam. Thus, as Bartell v«*ites,

V/ith the support and recommendation of Matus, the general in the Zone sind the Yaqui coordinator from the president's office, the cooperative became a reality in 1957- Support was obtained from the Federal Maritime Commission for the necessary fishing equipment and housing. Through the coor­ dinator a well and pump were supplied by Recursos Hidrauli- cos, a school was built and staffed by the Education Department, and in 1962 an infirmary was completed (Bartell 1965:259).

The initial financing of the Yaqui coop was in the form of a direct government subsidy of 1.5 million pesos, for the purchase of boats, motors, and fishing equipment. Additionally, construction material was provided for houses at Guasimas (Bartell 1965:259)®

From this original founding and financing, the coop has grown markedly in the last 20 years. Bartell counted 33 family heads as original socios. By 1962, when he conducted fieldwork in Guasimas,

52 Yaquis and 30 Mexicans were fishing there, the latter group per­ mitted to fish so long as they supplied their own equipment and mar­ keted their catch through Yaqui channels. About 90^ of the Yaqui socios had been living outside the Yaqui Zone, in adjacent Sonoran cities, while the remaining 10^ worked primarily as farmers within the reserve (Bartell 1965:261). 218

By 1976, Yaqui socios numbered about 3^+01 although the number fishing in a given year averaged around 200. The remaining socios worked either as non-fishing employees of the coop or remained in the pueblos, frequently assisting relatives In agriculture. The increase in socios over the last 20 years can be accounted for primarily by internal growth, not absorption of Yaquis living outside the Zone.

Most of the newer socios are sons or brothers of established coop mem­ bers, who have begun to fish during or shortly after their high school education.

Organizationally, the coop has grown apace, V/hen originally incorporated, the coop followed the ejido pattern of dual administra­ tion, headed by presidents of the Consejo de Administracion and the

Consejo de Vigilancia. Elected by the socios, these officials are responsible for the major economic decisions of the coop, and each group, in theory, serves as a check upon the actions of the other.

Additional offices of secretary and treasurer, appointed by thei presi­ dent of administration, were created to conduct the paperwork of the coop and keep an accounting of profits and disbursements. In nominal authority over the whole fishing coop are the governors of the pueblo of Belem, in whose territory Guasimas is located. Their duties how­ ever amount to little more than authorizing, in conjunction with the coop president, the visits of anthropologists,

V/ith growth in the number of socios, amount of equipment, and increased yields, the coop infrastructure has expanded. Coop offices have been moved from Guasimas to a tv;o-room building off the main street of Guaymas. Most of the financial affairs of the coop are now 219

handled from the Guaymas office: export jind marketing arrangements are

organized there, bills paid, weekly disbursements to socios made, sind

payment for medical csire for socios and their families are authorized.

The two coop presidents spend much of their time at the Guaymas office,

along with the secretary and treasurer. In addition, the coop employs

a Mexican accountant, severed office secretaries, cashiers, and a full-

time watchmam for the office.

Due in part to the centralization of administration in Guaymas,

and in part to the increased activity of the coop, a number of addi­

tional positions have become available to Yaquic. At the fishing camp

of Lobos, a "field boss" (.jefe de campo) is charged with overseeing

production and handling minor disputes. Both GuaCsimas and Lobos em­

ploy receivers, responsible for weighing and recording daily catches.

Likev/ise, both sites have men to dispense gas for outboards, truckers

who drive the catch to Guaymas, and packers, in charge of ice-packing

the daily catches into coop trucks.

In addition, the ice-making plant at Guasimas employs four

Yaquis for its operations and one as night watchman. Six Yaquis work

as mechanics on the coop's equipment, while three have jobs in the

Guaymas fish-freezing plant which handles the coop's product.

Finally, two Yaquis work as auxiliary fisheries inspectors for

the Subsecretaria de Pesca, Secretaria de Industria y Comercio. Accord­

ing to the instructions issued in 1971 by the Director General of

Fisheries, auxiliary inspectors are required to verify that all com­

mercial and sport fishermen in the zone are duly licensed and are honoring regulations on closed seasons and catch limits. When 220 infractions are uncovered, the guilty party's equipment and catch are to be confiscated pending disciplinary action by the Subsecretaria de

Pesca. Additionally, inspectors are charged with the responsibility for preventing toxic material from entering fished waters, insuring that fish waste from fishermen and packers is properly buried or burned, that explosives are not used in the capture of fish, that fish eggs are not destroyed, and that minimum size limits for captured fish are observed. To be employed as inspectors, men must meet specific qualifications as to age (at least 19 years old) and completion of national military service.

The remainder of the coop employees are drawn from the member­ ship of the coop. Oiily a few, such as mechanics and truck drivers, require special skills. And for some positions, notably election as coop president or president of the vigilance committee, demonstrated fishing skill is an important asset. Other positions are frequently given to temporarily disabled fishermen.

Capital investment in the cooperative has also expanded rapidly since its founding in 1957- V/ith government assistance, a modern ice- fabricating plant was built at Guasimas in the mid-1960s, with a daily capacity of k tons of ice. More recently, a deep freeze storage room with an 8-ton capacity of shrimp and fish has been completed adjacent to the ice plant. A similar storage facility is under construction at

Lobos. Together, these facilities allow for a more efficient process­ ing of the Yaqui catch, for it is no longer necessary to transport shrimp daily to Guaymas in often poorly refrigerated trucks. Now, catches can be immediately packed and frozen as Gua'simas and allowed 221

to accumulate until sufficient to warrant delivery to processing and

distribution centers in Guaymas. For such transport the coop owns

three 8-ton trucks in addition to two 1-ton trucks and several pick­

ups. At Guasimas as well, a spinoff fish-floixr plant has been con­

structed for processing fish waste into livestock feed and fertilizer.

It produces only minor income to the coop, since catches of scale-fish

throughout the year are too small to justify continuous operation of

the mill.

Much of the profits of the coop over the last 20 years have

been reinvested in fishing equipment. Approximately 270 boats are now

operated by socios. A smaller number of outboard motors, most in good

repair, belong to the coop. While motors and boats must occasionally

be replaced or repaired from year to year, a more constant coop expense

is for nylon cast nets used in shrimping. At a cost of 500 pesos

apiece, these nets seldom last more than one season and must be con­

stantly repaired and replaced. More permanent equipment, loaned to

each socio during the shrimping season, includes a set of oars, a long

pole used both for poling the boat in shallow estuaries and for manipu­

lating the nets, and a large basket for carrying the catch to the

weighing station.

Based on information collected from a previous coop official,

a summary of income and expenses for several years can be given.

During the 1972 season, coop expenses totaled 8,0^1,000 pesos

(5,726,000 pesos for costs of production, including a heavy investment

in new equipment; 1,822,000 pesos for operational costs which include salaries of coop officials, legal expenses, taxes, and travel expenses 222

for coop representatives; and 2,493*000 pesos in direct payments to

fishermen for their catches). Income from shrimp, scale-fish, and fish

byproducts totaled 5,1^7,000 pesos, thus necessitating loans of

2,89'+,000 pesos to pay the balance of operation and production costs.

At the end of the succeeding year, the coop had managed to pay off a

small portion of the 1972 loans, and showed a profit of 60,290.38 pesos

after expenses. Through the first half of 197^, the profits banked by

the coop had risen to 155,750.1^ pesos.

A closer look at partial 197^ expenses (January through July)

indicates that the success of the coop is not adequately reflected in

the small profits carried over from year to year. Aside from salaries

to coop officials (109,443»00 pesos for six months), a respectable por­

tion of income from the sale of shrimp and fish products goes into

socieil services and direct loans to coop members. Twenty-four members

(11 of whom were coop officials at the time) received loans ranging

from 200 to 8,450 pesos, with a total loaned out by the coop of

32,533»65 pesos. Eighteen thousand eight hundred pesos were expended

in gratificaciones, bonuses paid to socios and coop officials during

the Lenten season (14,333 pesos went to officials, the remaining 4,500

pesos to fishermen). And a total of 217,350.42 pesos were expended

for social services (Table 7)«

Ecology of Yaqui Shrimping

Shrimp fishing as Guasimas and Lobos, and at some of the minor

estuaries along the Yaqui coast, begins in earnest about the middle of

August. Under law shrimping is closed from April 16 to July 31 in the Table ?• Expenditiires for social services, 1972.

Social Services Pesos

Food 10,788.80

Hospital expenses, medicine 52,507-02

Insurance payment 116,121.45

Transportation of sick, injured 2,^56.00

Btzrials 6,025.00

Fiestas 10,966.15

"Donations" 2,168.00

Education 16,050.00

Sports 1^5.00

Vehicle maintenance I8.OO

Miscellaneous expenses 125«00

Source: interviews with coop officials 22k

closed waters of bays and estuaries and from July 16 to September 15

in the open waters of the Gulf of California (Chapa Saldana, Guilbot

Taddei and Romero Rodriguez 1968) to protect the early stages of the

growth cycle. The on-shore closed season corresponds well with gener­

ally uninviting fishing weather; the cold in winter, the strong and

constant wind of the Lenten season, and the debilitating heat of sum­

mer. From August into December the weather is mild and the winds pre­

dictable (arising daily about 1:00 p.m., the time fishermen are returning to shore with their catches).

The daily economic activity of the fishermen thus ends in early afternoon, having begun shortly after dawn when the coastal lagoons are most placid. Boats and equipment are readied, motors and auxiliary tanks gassed from the coop supplies, and the crews gather on shore.

Crews vary from two to three men. Two-man crews are minimeil: one to operate the motor, the other in the bow to cast and retrieve the net.

A third man can relieve the caster periodically or begin to de-head shrimp as they are hauled on board. Crews remain relatively stable throughout a season, being frequently composed of brothers or father- son combinations. Composition may change from day to day, though, as individual socios choose not to fish because of illness, family mat­ ters, or fatigue. Thus the number of days an individual socio fishes during the season is not constant. Likewise, there is marked variation in total catches among socios. For the season of 1972, the single year for which I obtained complete individual records, the totals for the 178 active socios ranged from 15 kilos to 775 kilos as summarized in Table 8. 225

Table 8, Distribution of shrimp catches by socios, 1972.

Kilos Number of Socios

751-800 1

701-750 0

651-700 1

601-650 3

551-600 7

501-550 9

it51-500 10

k0l-k30 21

351-^00 29

301-350 30

251-300 19

201-250 21

151-200 9

101-150 8

51-100 k

0- 50 5

Source: interviews with coop officials. 226

With a total catch for this season of 59»571 kg., the average

per socio is 332.8 kg. To explain the details of the distribution,

informants most frequently invoked the factors of skill, persistence,

and illness. Mainy of the socios catching only small amounts were sick

or injured during part of the season, occupational hazards by no means

rare to Yaqui shrimping. Despite adequate knowledge of their equip­

ment and environment, Yaquis succumb to minor colds induced by exposure

and to muscle strains resulting from the handling of heavily ladened

shrimp nets. More severe disabilities are not unknown: heart attacks

from over-exertion and pneumonia, worsened by consteint exposure. The success of the fe*r fishermen catching large amounts can be attributed to skill Eind persistence, fishing continually throughout the season.

A middle range catch of 300 or 350 kilos can be obtained, apparently, through relatively persistent fishing, with no particular expertise other than practice at casting and retrieving the net.

Luck is not invoked as an explanation for differential success.

In the main, this is due to the fact that the optimum fishing zones in

Gua'simas and Lobos are common knowledge and generally predictable. The shrimp of the littoral, primarily Penaeus stylirostris (earneron azul), feed on microorganisms abounding in the mouths of estuaries or along the paths of currents. At Guasimas and Lobos, these feeding grounds are quite clearly delimited (See Figs. 3 and 'f). Currents entering and leaving the bays follow a relatively stable path, and a primary tactic of Yaqui fishermen is to proceed along the current, casting and retrieving the net. Alternatively, a number of boats may fish the shallow openings of the estuaries along shore, where the biomass of 227

•y Lobos Bahio de Lobos (Yoqui comp)

Lllibo (Mexican Lighthouse Vitloge) Irrigation drain Islo de Lobos

Figure 3« Bahia de Lobos. 228

Guosimos

Estero del

Estero de los

Currents

Shrimp grounds

Kilometers Estero de lo Cruz

Figure k. Guasimas and the Estero del Yasicuri. 229 microorganisms affords excellent feeding grounds for shrimpa Thus, neither Lobos nor Guasimas demands a random fishing pattern of trial-

Eind-error, lucky and lanlucky, searches throughout the bays.

Despite the predictability of shrimp locations, there has not developed a pattern of territoriality or exclusive use of specific locations, as has developed in other fisheries of this kind (see

Acheson 1975)• All Yaqui socios may fish whatever locatiosi they choose aind frequently congregate at the most productive areas on any given day.

As noted by Bartell (19655 265) and confirmed by my ovm observations, congregation is encouraged: one boat getting good returns from pre­ liminary casts will summon other Yaquis to that location.

Failure to develop a territorial exploitation pattern with access to the best spots restricted to a few fishermen, removes a potential check against over-fishing. Alternative means of checking over-exploitation appear to have been adopted unintentionally or forced upon the Yaqui shrimp coop. First, as noted above, the littoral shrimp season is restricted to the months between August and mid-April, a restriction occasionally enforced by the auxiliary government inspec­ tors working with the coop. At Guasimas and Lobos, the season is further constrained by environmental factors: the inhospitable fishing conditions throughout much of the year — the cold of winter, the winds of spring, and the heat of summer. Equally important, shrimp are lacking after about January 1, Around that time, the coastal waters become too cold and shrimp move out into the open waters of the Gulf of California which are warmed by currents. Exclusively a littoral 250 technology, the Yaqui fishing equipment does not allow socios to fish the more dangerous open waters of the Gulf.

A further check on possible over-exploitation is the cumulative effect of daily decisions to fish or remain on shore. For a variety of reasons, as discussed above, many socios do not fish continuously throughout the season. Given some reasonable estimates of 5-10 kg. of shrimp per fisherman per day, and a fishing season of I05 days (from mid-August to mid-December, excluding Siindays) I80 socios could catch between 9^»50O kg. and 189,000 kg, of shrimp in a season. Thus, the

1972 catch of 59»571 kg. is only 6393 of the minimum estimated yield were sill socios working full-time throughout the season.

Additionally, the duration of daily fishing has been restricted by several factors. For the first decade of operation, the coop was marketing its catch to fish-buyers working for Guaymas processors or to individual retailers. Dcdly around noon, the buyers' trucks would pick up the catch directly from Yaqui fishermen at the estuaries. To meet the pick-up schedule, then, fishermen had to cease fishing in mid- morning (Bartell 1965:270). V/ith the construction of ice-making and freezing facilities at Guasimas, the coop was no longer under the con­ straint to meet the pick-up schedules. The potential for longer days on the water was precluded, however, by the dangers of small-boat fish­ ing in the afternoon chop on the bays. Thus, even with the techno­ logical capacity to process and preserve catches throughout the day, fishing regularly ceases between noon and 1:00 p.m.

Finally, access to the Yaqui fishery has been restricted by several factors. Housing remains in short supply at Guasimas, limiting 231

the number of fishermen and their families living there. At Lobos as

well, the temporary housing is restricted, and the remoteness of the site precludes daily commuting from other Yaqui pueblos. Fishing equipment is likewise a limiting factor on access. While frequently the 280 coop boats are not fully utilized on any given day, it appears that the workable outboard motors are used to the maximum.

These several factors together appear then to prevent exces­ sive exploitation of the shrimp resoiurces along the Yaqui littoral.

Nevertheless, a perceived imbalance between fishermen and shrimp has played a major role in the expansion of coop activities from the initial site at Guasimas to the larger, more productive bay at Lobos.

And imbalance may again result from the very success of this expansion.

Expansion and Resource Competition

Although groups of Yaqui and Mexicans shrimped and fished the

Yasicuri estuary from Guasimas prior to the founding of the coop, it is doubtful that such exploitation was very intensive. Few in number, with motorless boats, these fishermen most likely shrimped for subsis­ tence rather than for commercial production. It is unlikely then that any strain on the sustained yield capacity of shrimp or fish occurred before the organized efforts of the coop began in 1957.

With the founding of the coop, the purchase of new equipment and motorized craft, the construction of permanent housing, and the establishment of dependable means of transport to the growing luxury markets of Guaymas and the United States, fishing effort undoubtedly intensified at Guasimas. Indeed, in the early years of coop operation 232 at Guasimas, Bartell notes peak season yields of 100 kg. per boat per day, averaging 16 to 17 metric tons of shrimp per season (Bartell 1965:

272). These daily yields are excessively high by current standards.

This early success in exploiting the previously underutilized resources of Guasimas led to rapid growth of the coop; many Yaquis became active socios; new equipment was regularly purchased; and the fleet of motorized boats increased substantially. Unfortunately, though, I can only speculate on the effects of this expansion and in­ tensified fishing for the sustained yield capacity of the Guasimas fishery, for prior to 1971i when a trained Mexican accountant was hired by the coop, few accurate records were kept. Nevertheless, it is quite safe to assume that individual yeilds declined in some proportion to the increase in number of socios exploiting the resources of the lit­ toral.

During a decade of presumed decreasing individual yields, from the 1960s to the early 1970s, attention increasingly focused on Lobos, along the coast south of Guasimas. Lobos was not an unexploited virgin fishery, however. Two Mexican small-boat coops were already fishing the bay in the 1960s, residing in a permanent village strad­ dling the irrigation drain flowing into the bay (Hinojosa, Paralta, and

Vega 1972). Speculating again, the yields of these Mexican coops may have been substantial, since Lobos presents a much better ecological setting for shrimp than does Gu^imas or the other estuaries along the southern Sonoran coastline.

The fishing potential of Lobos is readily apparent. Shrimp breed and feed in estuaries, where the biomass of microorganisms is 233 higher than in open water. Quite simply there are more feeding grounds of greater size, in Lobos than in the Yasicuri estiiary of Gua'siraas,

Additionally, the irrigation drain plays a crucial role in the ecology of Lobos. It empties directly into the bay much of the nutrients washed from cultivated fields of the Yaqui Irrigation District. And as previously noted, the strength and shape of the predominant current at Lobos contributes to a high mass of shrimp. Entering south of the sandbar protecting Lobos from the Gulf, it carries across the entire length of the bay, bringing a continuously renewed supply of feed for shrimp. By contrast, the current at Guasimas enters and leaves by the same opening into the Gulf, and its course within the Yasicuri bay is more confined than at Lobos. Thus, in both esturine environment and

Gulf current, the fishing grounds at Guasimas are more restricted, less productive, than the Bahxa de Lobos,

The fishing potential of Lobos, obvious to any knowledgeable

Yaqui socio, began to draw many Yaquis away from the crowded conditions of Guasimas. By the early 1970s a seasonsil fishing camp had been firmly established at Lobos, across the drain from the existing Mexican village. The relative proximity of Lobos (by rough dirt road) to the pueblos of Vicara and Potam has altered the composition of the coopera­ tive. Increasingly, new socios are drawn not from the Yaqui population living outside the Zone, as was the case originally with the founding of Guasimas, but from the traditionally agricultural villages within tribal boundaries. Thus most of the Lobos fishermen are year-long residents of Potam, with a few from the smaller pueblo of Vicam, re­ turning to these pueblos after the shrimp season ends in December. 23^+

By informants' accounts, exploitation of the Lobos fishery proved immediately successful for the Yaqui coop, relieving for a time the growing pressure of housing and resources at Gudsimaso This suc­ cess, though, heightened tensions between Yaqui fishermen and the per­ manent Mexican residents across the drainage canal at Lobos. This tension has found expression in a series of petitions by Yaqui authori­ ties, calling for the complete removal of Mexicans from Lobos,

Demands and Concessions

At the pesik of the 1972 shrimping season, Yaqui officials simultaneously delivered two petitions to the highest levels of Mexican government. One, addressed to Hector Medina Neri, as Subsecretary of

Fishing, Secretariat of Industry and Commerce, sought exclusive access to the Bahia de Lobos through the Resolucion Presidencial., of 30

September 19^0, As delineated in the 19^0 directive, the Yaqui Zone's southern boundary ran to the southeastern tip of Isla de Lobos, placing all but one edge of the bay within Yaqui territory. Yaquis complained through the petition that the Mexican boats of Liliba, across the drain from the Yaqui csump at Lobos, were illegally exploiting a Yaqui lit­ toral zone. Affirming their desire to work through legal channels, the signatories of the petition then articulated two demands:

1. That the Subsecretary comply as quickly as possible with the Presidential Resolution of September 30, 19^+0, per­ mitting only our Sociedad Cooperativa de Produccion Pes- quera "Comunidades Yaquis," S.C.L., to capture shrimp and fish within waters along the coast of the Gulf of California adjacent to our restored lands. 2. To order the cancellation of the permits for capturing shrimp and fish granted to other cooperatives in the Bahia de Lobos which are not ours ... especially the permit 235

given to a cooperative called "Pescadores del Yaqui," which because of its name, has caused confusion, being considered as having Yaqui members when in fact it has none (Autori- dades Tradicionales de sus Ocho Pueblos, Tribu Yaqui 1972a),

The petition was then signed (5^ cases) or thumb-printed (6 cases) by the five signatorios — governor, pueblo mayor, capitan, comandante, and secretario — for each of the eight pueblos, headed by Vicam as

"primera cabecera" and Potam as "segunda cabecera." Under the letter­ head of "Tribu Yaqui, Autoridades Tradicionales de sus Ocho Pueblos," the petition is dated Zk October 1972, and contains the official seals of the pueblos on the margins of each pageo

A more deferential petition was simultaneously forwarded directly to President Luis Echeverrxa, with the same signatures®

After extending the most cordial and respectful greeting from us and on behalf of the other members of the Yaqui tribe, once more we are resorting to you to solicit your valuable intervention, so that the fisheries authorities will not con­ tinue to deady in granting the exclusive right which belongs to our fishing cooperative. .. « In the Bahia de Lobos there exists a cooperative called "Pescadores del Yaqui," made up of members foreign to oiir race, who are now in open disobedience not only against the rights of our fishermen but also against the dispositions of the fisheries authorities. If no violent act has occurred, it is because we have succeeded in keeping our fishermen calm, confident that this situation will be resolved by the competent authorities of our Supreme Government, honorably represented by yourself (Autoridades Tradicionales de sus Ocho Pueblos, Tribu Yaqui 1972b).

The demands brought results, 1^ months later, when President

Echeverrxa visited Guasimas to issue a directive for exclusive access by Yaquis to fish resources within the Yaqui Zone. As reported in the

Hermosillo newspaper. El Imparcial of 19 December 1973 (p« 1)» the directive contained four articles. 236

1. Solely and exclusively the members of the Yaqui tribe and of the Sociedad Cooperativa de Produccion Pesquera "Comuni- dades Yaqui" will be allowed to fish in the waters of the estuaries and bays of the Yaqui Zone. 2. The Secretary of Industry and Commerce will grant and re­ new the permits and concessions for fishing, in accordance with the federal law for the improvement of fisheries, to the Sociedad Cooperativa "Comunidades Yaqui. .. 3. The Yaqui tribe, its members, and the Sociedad Coopera­ tiva remain obligated to allow the free transit of boats, persons, or materials on the waters of the estuetries and bays and also to respect all the provisions relating to the government of the federal zone of the littorals re­ ferred to in this resolution. k. The present resolution is in the public and social in­ terest (El Imperial, 19 Dec. 1973sl).

Since 1973» fishing by "foreigners" has decreased, held in check by the vigilance of the Yaqui fisheries inspectors and a small contingent of Mexican naval guards, who also are charged with the duty of curtailing the smuggling of shrimp outside coop marketing channels,

Yaquis have found little government support for the complete removal of Mexican residents from Liliba, where they continue to live and work in nearby wheat fields.

How can we account for the success of the Yaqui tribe in gain­ ing exclusive access to littoral resources, if not complete removal of resident Mexicans? With the framework I have sought to develop in

Chapters 2 and 5, there are two options. Success may be attributed primarily to the strength of the corporate organization of the tribe: the more tightly organized and legitimate the tribal government is, the more effective it will be in political negotiations with government agencies and regional power blocs. Alternatively (though not neces­ sarily mutually exclusive from the argument for corporate strength) vie may attribute local success in resource competition to the marginality 257

of the resources under contention: resources that eire unimportant to

national interests will more likely be turned over to encapsulated

groups seeking access. The first explanatory option stems from the

propositions of Despres (1975) t pu't forward in the introductory chap­ ters. The second derives from the analysis in the previous chapter,

of continued Yaqui dependence under conditions of large-scale export agriculture.

Corporate Organization

At one level, corporate organization can be held constant, for the same "autoridades tradicionales," the pueblo signatorios, served as petitioners for both the agricultural villages and the fishing co­ operative. As a constant, then, the corporately-organized political authority of the tribe cannot be used to explain the very different degrees of success achieved by farmers and fishermen in the interethnic competition for resources. An explanation may be hidden, though, in the possibility of varying degrees of real political unity underlying the facade of corporateness put forward by the pueblo authorities in their formal petitions. I liave suggested, for example, that the externally-perceived unity of agricultural demands — for more land, more autonomy — masks some festering tensions between fsirming socios and particulares, hired laborers and their employers, and between de­ velopmental policies. Can Yaqui fishermen and their coop leaders be seen as more united in their interests, and more solidary in their demands? 238

On several occasions in the field I received am unelicited com­ mentary on the affairs of the fishing cooperative; ptiro pieito, "pure dispute." The disputes, however, are structured differently from the horizontal feuds of the agricultural villages, which pit Yaqui farmer against Yaqui farmer, elected governors against pretenders. In the shrimp coop, tensions are more nearly vertical: working fishermen against their leaders. And, in the coop, the disputes are generated from internal prosperity, not from the debilitating dependency on out­ side administrators experienced by Yaqui farmers. Internal tension in the shrimp coop is, in short, a consequence of successful resource com­ petition and successful resource exploitation, not, as Despres' propo­ sitions would lead us to expect, a potential cause of failure to gain control over necessary factors of production.

A crucial manifestation of increasing coop prosperity, the business office was moved to Guaymas in the early 1970s. The move was a pragmatic business calculation: closer to the networks of communi­ cation and more accessible to marketing information, the coop could more efficiently distribute its increasing yields. Yet the relocation had rather profound internal consequences for the coop, "for it removed coop business from day-to-day monitoring by working fishermen.

Contentiousness has increased along with prosperity. Fishermen are quick now to observe and remark on patterns of "conspicuous con­ sumption" displayed by coop leaders. Several past leaders have con­ structed relatively substantial adobe homes in the Yaqui villages or have moved into comfortable residences in Guaymas. Some have become wealthy farmers and ranchers on Yaqui land. And, on any given day, 239 the coop president sind head of the vigilance committee may be observed driving between Guaymas and the fishing camps in new coop pick-up trucks, conducting necessary coop business, but also at times taking advantage of the subsidized transportation to haul cheaper groceries from the urban markets to their houses in the Zone. Fishermen are also quick to notice that coop officials, not individual workers, garner most of the funds set aside from coop profits for loans to needy members facing immediate crises.

In part a surfacing of resentment against the powerful, the accusations directed toward coop officials represent a more significaint development as well; the uneasy "institutionalization of suspicion."

Suspicion, as Ronald Dore points out, is a concomitant to the success­ ful operation of modern cooperatives in traditional societies. Such organizations cannot be based on "diffuse sentiments of solidarity."

Rather,

They must be predicated on a belief in original sin. Man, the assumption is, has an inevitable tendency to corruption. Therefore organizations must build in checks and balances such as the audit and the periodic re-election of officers ... institutionalized suspicion in the long run benefits all, in­ cluding those against whom it is directed. Thus the treasurer welcomes the audit—even though the audit makes sense only on the assumption that the treasurer might have been dishonest— because it clears him of suspicion. That justice should be done may be in the interests of the members; that it should be seen to be done is in the interest of the elected officials (Dore 1971:5'+-55).

Underlying this argument, of course, is the fact that organiza­ tions held together by ties of personal effect — rather than an imper­ sonal sense of responsibility to play by the rules ~ are ripe for corruption, nepotism, and ultimately, the withdrawal of participation 240

by members. Yet suspicion, the accepted application of checks and

balances, is extremely difficult to instill, and the modernizing co­

operative will likely face desperate growing pains, As Dore (1971:56-

57) contends.

Either the objective rules, with their suspicious assumptions or original sinfulness, are scrupulously applied—with the likelihood ... of arousing such animosity between those who apply the rules and'those to whom they are applied that the organization is burst asunder—or else the rules are not scrupulously observed and the non-observance eventually be­ comes so flagrant that the losers in the game of influence withdraw from the cooperative, or it founders in the factional struggle for advantage.

The Yaqui coop is, currently, experiencing the growing pains of

modernization. While the immediate stimulus for conflict and dispute

may be a perceived and sometimes real misuse of funds and equipment by

coop leaders, a more fundamental, and modern, climate of tension seems

to underlie these issues. The tension is between managers and workers;

the point of contention is one of reinvestment in equipment versus

increased individual earnings. Coop officials argue for expenditures

on new equipment and mainteneince of existing boats, motors, and trucks.

Fishermen recurrently demand a greater share of the coop profits. By

its nature, the issue cannot be definitively resolved but must be re­

negotiated as the need for new equipment arises. And, although I made

no first-hand observations of the process of renegotiation, it appesirs

that the results are acceptable to both managers and fishermen. In

recent years, tensions, petty disputes, and accusations of malfeasance

have paralleled the increasing prosperity of the coop, yet the poten­

tial costs of modernization—withdrawal from the enterprise by 2kl disgruntled members or the surfacing of debilitating factionalism — seem to have been avoided,

Narginality of Resources

Corporate organization does not seem to account for the success of Yaqui fishermen in the competition for resources. We may look now to the significance of Yaqui shrimp for regional and national economic development.

Yaqui fishermen contribute minutely to the total shrimp catch of the Gulf of California. Coop yields average about 60 tons for the four-month season, while Mexican shrimpers working out of the port of

Guaymas capture roughly 5^000 tons in open water (Chavez and Lluch

1971tl^8), The Yaqui output is less than 2^ of the Guaymas total.

Average yearly production for all ports of the Gulf of California

(states of Baja California, Sonora, and Sinaloa) amounts to 15,000 tons with about 90^ of this average coming from open water, and 10?^ from estuarine fishing (Chavez and Lluch 1971sl'+6; data from 1952 to

1970). Against this total Gulf output, Yaqui coop production amounts to less than

Yaqui tonnage provides little economic incentive for strict outside control over the tribal operation. And, unlike the role of

CONASTIPO in buying and selling basic food crops, the Mexican govern­ ment agencies make no effort to regulate shrimp prices or control distribution in the regional and foreign luxury markets.

There is, moreover, good reason for the Mexican government to maintain a stance of non-involvement. The Yaqui fishing coop 2k2 represents a notable and well-publicized success for Mexico's Indianist policy, focused on the "integration of indigenous communities into the economic, social, and political life of the nation" (Caso 1958;2?)®

V/hile the economic success of the coop is attributable in laj?ge measure to the strength of the foreign luxury market for shrimp, newspaper feature stories and presidential campaign speeches point to two addi­ tional factors: the indomitable spirit of the Yaqui tribe and govern­ mental benevolence.

We can emphatically assert that in Guasimas and in the Bahia de Lobos, life is not sub-human. The Yaqui communitiest under the direction of Melquiades Moroyoqui Nozamea, have reached a superior level, because their work demands it and because the profits obtained from fishing no longer filter into the hands of unscrupulous individuals. Such individuals have been eliminated by the President of the Republic ... in order to give to the Yaqui communities what they deserve, repaying their efforts with honesty and opening up to them protecting arms in the effort to exploit the coastal resources which belong to them by legal and unalienable right (Comentarios Nov. 13, 1972:5).

Free from government administration, the Yaqui coop has elIbo avoided intervention by local Mexican entrepreneurs and financiers.,

Unlike commercial agriculture in the Yaqui Valley, where Mexican- controlled technology is essential for indigenous farming, Yaqui small- boat shrimping and Mexican off-shore fishing are technologically in­ compatible. Shallow draft, open pangas are unsuitable for off-shore shrimping, just as the large, mechanized Mexican trawlers cannot pursue shrimp in the shallow estuaries of the littoral. Technologi­ cally constrained to their off-shore niche, Mexican shrimpers and their financial backers have stayed out of the Yaqui estuaries.

Nor do the Guaymas processing plants attempt to intervene financially in the Yaqui coop. The off-shore shrimp season extends 2k3 through most of the year, but the peak yields coincide with the brief estuary season. Were the estuary and off-shore seasons complementary, processers would have more incentive to oversee Yaqui shrimping, to assure a continuous supply#

While the location and seasonal availability of Yaqui shrimp underwrite a degree of economic autonomy for the coop, there is addi­ tionally a lack of investment opportunity for outsiders. In contrast to commercial agriculture in the Yaqui Valley, coastal shrimping is more labor-intensive and more technologically manageable by the Yaquis themselves. Efficient farming demands carefully managed water allo­ cation, mechanized plowing, planting, and harvesting, precisely con­ trolled application of fertilizer, and regular crop-dusting from air­ planes. Neither Yaqui particulares nor socios have the capital and knowledge to apply these agricultural inputs, and hence are at the mercy of non-Yaqui financiers — government or private — and non-Yaqui technicians. Fishing, on the other hand, requires rudimentary boat- handling skills and relatively easily acquired net-casting techniques; little outside technical aid is necessary. And, given the initial capitalization of the fishin"g coop by the federal government, subse­ quent investment in new equipment has been taken from the substantial coop profits. Technologically and financially, then, the coop can remain more self-sufficient than Yaqui farmers.

Patron-client ties between Yaqui fishermen and Mexican finan­ ciers are less likely to develop under these circumstances. A major obligation of patrons is to Support their farming clients while crops are growing, up to harvest. Fishing, by contrast is a daily activity. 2kk and the returns are immediate: Yaqui fishermen working for the coop are paid a portion of their catch as it is landed on the beach, giving them ready cash. The balance of the payment, minus the coop's per­ centage, is then paid to the fishermen at intervals throughout the shrimp season. Active fishermen thus have little need to seek finain- cial support from patrons diu'ing the season, and most seem to make enough cash to carry them through the closed periods.

Mexicein patronage is sought, however, for off-season non-shrimp fishing. Some Yaqui fishermen exploit pesca de escama (scale fish) in coastal estuaries during the Lenten season, when a demand for fish exists in locsd markets. Individual Yaqui fishermen, who do not have to be coop members, may obtain permission to use coop equipment-boats, motors, and gas cans. Additionally, they will need a chinchorro, the

50* to 100' long, 5' high net stretched across an estuary mouth, and a truck for transporting men and equipment to the coast. Few Yaquis can afford the chinchorro, and must seek outside financing through Mexican shop-owners. Store-keepers wishing to meet the Lenten fish demeind will partially finance a chinchorro, provide transportation for the Yaqui fishing crew and equipment, and usually bring along food and drink for the three- or four-day expeditions. Division of the catch is informal.

Each Yaqui on the crew will take enough for his own immediate needs and for distribution to friends and relatives, while the store-keeper takes the remainder for sale or personal consumption. As fish preserve poorly, even when cleaned, salted, and dried, the catch is distributed and consumed quickly; chinchorro fishing does not provide a long-term food supply for the fisherman and his family. 2^5

Through capital inputs into chinchorro expeditions, local

Mexican shop-owners can thus gain access to exclusive Yaqui resources.

But this access does not extend into the more profitable coop shrimp­

ing industry: chinchorro technology is distinct from the atarraya-

casting used for shrimp. And the profits from the limited local market

for fresh fish are not substantial enough to support a widespread

system of fishing patronage. The few patrons and clients involved in

off-season fishing are already tied through agricultural production:

the coastal expeditions seem more a secondary diversion than a primary

economic activity for Mexican shop-owners and their Yaqui clients.

Residence, Ceremony, and Ethnicity

Yaqui fishermen have been successful in gaining exclusive

access to coastal resoiirces in the Zone. They have also avoided the

entangling dependence on outside capital, whether public or private.

They have, in short, come closer than Yaqui farming pueblos to the tribal ideal of economic, political, and territorial integrity. Yet

Yaqui fishermen show less ethnic involvement: a number of them are monolingually Spanish; many of the women opt for Mexican-style dress; their children seem more fully integrated into the Mexican school sys­ tem and Mexican peer-groups; and fishermen, by and large, seem content to be irreligious.

Based on historical roots, this compairatively weak interest in

Yaqui ethnicity is now reinforced by patterns of residence and cere­ monialism. The founders of the coop were not drawn randomly from the towns of the Yaqui Zone; rather, many were already living outside the reserve and outside the focus of Yaqui tradition. They were fishermen

from Guaymas and Empalme, trained on Mexican shrimpers in the Gulf and

forced into close interaction with urban Mexican society (Bartell 1965:

258). At present, most Guasimeflos continue this association with the

cities up the federal highway: women do much of their shopping in the

supermarkets of Guaymas; fishermen make use of the medical and dental

facilities there; high-school students are bussed to schools there;

and the pay days at the coop's Guaymas office draw crowds of Yaqui

socios and their families to town.

Residentially, however, the two Yaqui fishing villages are more

solidly Yaqui than the larger pueblos along the river bed. Few non-

Yaquis live at Guasimas, and virtually none in Lobos proper. Across

the irrigation drain from Lobos is a sizable Mexican settlement, but

ethnic tensions and past conflicts over the Bahia de Lobos serve to keep the two villages separated.

There is a coincident lack of ceremonial activity at Lobos and

Guasimas. Lack of ritual at Lobos stems largely from the complemen­

tarity of shrimping and Catholic religious schedules: shrimp are caught in the fall, a season with few major Catholic "ceremonial dates.

For the remainder of the year, the Lobos camp is abandoned and Yaqui

fishermen return to homes along the river. At Gu^imas, inhabited the year around, the pattern of ritual observation is somewhat more com­ plex. Several elderly men and women have stmggled to build up the ceremonial organization to observe Lent and have succeeded in con­ structing a small church. Key ceremonial positions are staffed for the most part, by residents of other Yaqui pueblos who move to GuSiBimas for the duration of the religious season. Yet this influx of ritual specialists is nearly balanced by a pilgrimage to the few tra­ ditional Guasimefios out of the village. They go to the larger river pueblos to observe and participate in the more spectacular pageantry.

The potential audience at Guasimas is thereby depleted, and the cere­ monialism remains largely uninspiredo

Summary

Exploiting a marginal but lucrative resource, Yaqui fishermen have more successfully lived up to the tribal ideal of autonomy ~ an ideal which Yaqui farmers, forced into dependence on outside capital, can honor only in the breach. On another point of contrast, though,

Yaqui fishermen are less involved in patterns of ethnicity than their counterparts in the Ocho Pueblum along the river. In the final chap­ ter, I will draw some conclusions from these observations. CHAPTER 8

RESOURCES, POVfflR, AND ETHNICITY IN SOUTHERN SONORA

Yaqui ethnicity has been the professed concern of this report.

Much of the analysis, though, has focused on the Mexican political economy: I have looked at hovj and why a national government interferes in the economics of Sonora's export agriculture, and of how ajid why the same government chooses a laissez-faire policy towards Yaqui fishing operations. This emphasis, deflecting away from ethnicity as a pre­ eminently cultural phenomenon, reflects an increasingly dominant theme; ethnic identity is primarily a phenomenon of politics and economics.

It is more instrumental than categorical; it deals v;ith group advantage, not simply with primordial sentiments or individual allegiances.

My concern with regional, and at times national, politics and economics also responds to a long-standing critique of Middle American ethnography: that it is excessively oriented to the community and fails to link indigenous village to regional centers and metropolises

(Chcimbers 1977)• I will attempt here to tie together these several themes; to suggest linkages among ethnicity, politics, and economics, among nation, region, and village.

To review, I began with the proposition that corporately organized ethnic groups will have advantages in the competition for resoirrces which are lacking among non-corporately organized ethnic 2k9 populations. The advantages lie essentisilly in the corporate polity's ability to express unity of demands and to carry out the politics requisite to meeting these demands. Abner Cohen, following Weber, adds the element of efficiency or rationality to such organizations: neither time nor energy need be wasted in endowing non-political func­ tions — ceremony or the gathering of friends — with political purpose.

And, fostered by corporate organization, successful resource competi­ tion will be conducive to the maintenance of ethnic boundaries and the assertion of ethnic identities.

In treating ethnicity as primarily instrumental, Leo Despres is being cynical. But he provides a necessary counterpoint, I think, to static analyses of ethnicity as primordial sentiment. Under such analyses, ethnic identity is non-problematical: you belong because you feel a need to belong (for a critique of such views, see Williams

1978; for a .justification, see Parsons 1975)•

Sonoran Yaqui ethnicity, as I have interpreted it, offers direct support for neither the cynical nor the sentimentail. The Yaqui constitute an organized, corporate polity and "ethnic group," But to

Yaqui farmers, this polity gave little advantage in the struggle for resources: territorial expansion failed, as did demands for a de­ finitive survey of the tribeil boundary. Yet, contrary to the impli­ cations of Despres' propositions, social boundaries between Yaqui and non-Yaqui persist and underwrite distinct ethnic identities. Despres' predictions fail, I suggest, because the impetus for Yaqui boundary maintenance rests not on pecuniary advantage, but on a more involuted process: on the complex symbolic reciprocity that centers on Yaqui 250 ceremonial performances and ceremonial audiences. Here, too, is where

T3ropositions of primordial sentiment need to be amended; such senti­ ments exist, to be sure, but they are, perhaps, more a consequence than a cause of persistent Yaqui ceremony. Finally, and again in con­ tradiction to Despres, the day-to-day assertion of ethnic identity, whether to other Yaquis or to outsiders, is minimal. Yaquis do not manipulate cynically their group membership and identity, but neither do they sentimentally uphold the ideals and traditions of Yaqui culture and history.

I will consider these summary conclusions in turn.

Corporate Polity and Resource Competition

In recent years, Yaquis have been eminently successful in the competition for marine resources. But they have failed repeatedly in their demands for more agricultural land. In both cases, the same

Yaqui polity, the gubernatorial organization of the Eight Pueblos, articulated the demands and pursued the negotiations. Success and failtire cannot be attributed, per se, to political organization within the Yaqui Zona. In addition, we must look outside, to the larger forces of economics and politics in the region and the nation, F. G,

Bailey's notion of "composite interference" is of assistance here.

The Mexican government has substantial capability to interfere in the affairs of its ethnic enclaves and its subordinate socioeconomic classes. The question thus becomes: why did it show its determination to block Yaqui demands for land at the same time that it granted Yaqui demands on the coast? 251

Littoral resources in the Yaqui Zone, as I suggested in Chapter

7, are at once marginal to national economic interests and inaccessible to regional fishing technology. Governmental treasuries would receive little boost by taxing the yields of the Yaqui coop. Kence, it is not worth the administrative effort to closely regulate the small-scale indigenous enterprise. Nor do the off-shore Mexican fishermen seek such regulation and interference in the operation of the Yaqui coop: their boats are too large to ply the Yaqui estuaries and their pro­ cessors are already busy during the Yaqui shrimping season. Secon­ darily, too, the national government can derive political capitail by the very,act of non-interference: the coop can, and is, held up as a model of successful Indianist developmental policy, Guasimas is now a routine stop for presidential candidates and psirty hopefuls.

The comparison is not perfectly symmetrical. Irrigation land in the Yaqui Zone is as important as the estuaries are marginal, but this does not fully account for the failure of Yaqui governors to re­ gain leind and settle the boundary issue. For regional politics and the economics of export agriculture are more complex.

Farm land on both sides of the Rio Yaqui — the Mexican Valle and the Indian Zona. — are made to contribute substantially to the economic development of the entire country. Through financing and marketing facilities, the government seeks to control exports from the delta, to direct the production decisions — of what to plant, when, where, and how to market the harvests. Government agencies are effec­ tive in regulating Yaqui farming, but only to the limits of their ability to finance it. In the face of credit shortages, Yaqui farmers 252

turn to local patrons and to the subsistence-food market generated by

governmental crop policies in the region.

V/ere the selection and distribution of crops the only issues at

stake along the Yaqui River, then the boundary dispute might just as

quickly have been settled in the tribe's favor as in the campesinos.

For the economics of irrigation agriculture point to one dominant fact;

the question of v/ho owns and works the land is of less importance than

of who finances production and controls distribution. Yaquis could

farm the San Ignacio plots as easily as campesinos could; in either

case, the crucial capital inputs would have to come from elsewhere,

from public and private sources.

That the land was awarded to campesinos, not retained by lati-

fundistas nor regained by Yaquis, was ultimately a complex political

statement, not an economic one. Yaquis lost the political gambit be­

cause they relied merely on organizational power, on their corporate

polity. Campesinos won, politically if not economically, because they

relied not merely on the power of numbers, but on the derivative power

of the out-going President as well. And latifundistas lost, politi­

cally if not commercially, because they relied too briefly, during a

one-day economic strike, on their power of resotirces.

Ironically, then, the Yaquis turned out to be too organized and

too autonomous. Corporate organization replaced the threat of mass

Yaqui action; political autonomy placed them outside the ruling party.

By long refusing cooptation into the government structure, the tribe had given up its right to the derivative power emanating from the apex

of control in the nation. And it has given up the corresponding duty:

to unconditionally support the presidency and the ruling party. 253

Ethnic Boundaries and Ceremonial Performances

The failvire of the Yaqui polity to win its immediate demand — to extend the territorieil boundary — has not destroyed the social and cxiltural boundaries between Yaqui and Mexican. Nor have such bound­ aries been particvilarly attenuated in the face of prevailing under- assertions of ethnic identity. In other words, the persistence of boundaries is not motivated by political success of the corporate polity, and neither are such boundaries simple derivatives of ethnic assertiveness. Instead, these boundaries are founded upon an active and persistent ceremonial system whose fxindamental and ironic feature is its openness, its lack of compartmentalization.

The Catholicism of Yaqui ritual and belief is curiously in- digenized and universalistic: Yaqui and Mexican alike are sillowed and encouraged to attend and observe and participate, and thus win the favor of the Santos. Mexicans and Yaquis do attend the ritual perfor­ mances for this reason, but also for others. Ceremonies periodically interject into the dusty coastal setting the exciting burlesque of the pascolas, the comaraderie of friends, and the color of religious pag­ eantry. Yaqui rituals build upon these individual motivations for attendance and participation and proceed to take on a symbolic and communicative life of their ovm. They contain messages of cultural distinctiveness and social boundaries. Mexicans see that the Yaqui santos are very Catholic but also very indigenous. And Pascolas host both audience and gods, performing in the universal language of pan­ tomime, but they speak and dress as Yaquis. Mexicans in the audience begin to comprehend but are recurrently reminded of how much of Yaqui 25^

culture and society they do not understand. And Yaquis in attendance,

as performers or simply as observers, can watch as these boundaries —

social and cultural — are drawn and redrawn. They can see the Mexican

audience as a body of interested and, to a degree, reverent admirers

of local Catholicism. But they, the Yaquis, ultimately see Mexicans

in the audience as a group of outsiders, not privy to the pascolas'

verbal wit and unknowing of the fact that Jesus was, in the ancient

past, a Yaqui curandero.

Ethnic Identity; Ascription and Achievement

In day-to-day interaction, across ethnic boundaries and within

such boundaries, individual ethnic identity is seldom asserted or

actively communicated. Nor is such assertion customarily demanded or

elicited by others. On occasion, usually when confronted with counter­

claims, some Yaquis will profess their tribal identity and allegiance.

At most other times, though, Yaquis do not symbolically manipulate the

attributes of group membership and individual belonging. Moreover, a

number of Yaquis do not even possess the range of ethnic markers typi­

cally associated with Yaqui identity; they, too, appear to make little

effort to affirm their identification.

I argued in Chapter k that Yaqui group membership, with its attendant rights and duties, rests fundamentally on ascription, not

on achievement. An individusil is or is not a member of the tribe,

based on his descent. For many persons, whose families have main­ tained long residence in the Zone, the criterion is never formally applied. For others, returning to the region after an extended 255

absence and petitioning for access to Yaqui resources, this criterion

may be actively investigated; pueblo governors must collect a biography

of the individual in question and judge his ascriptive membership.

Such judgments may be casuistical, for many Yaquis have, through sev­

eral generations of displacement and forced interaction with non-

Yaquis, developed only tenuously Yaqui biographies or genealogies#

Importantly, though, such casuistical applications of an ascriptive

criterion are not flexible enough to allow outsiders to "become" Yaqui,

Without some minimal descent ties to acknowledged Yaquis, an individual

cannot "achieve" Yaqui membership and the ensuing rights and duties in

the Zone, In short, group membership — as I have strictly defined it

and as pueblo governors are, upon occasion, equally strict in their

descriminations — rests upon descent and not on performance.

An ethnic performance — an assertion of ethnic identity ~ is

thus neither necessary nor sufficient for attaining group membership.

This fact, though, does not logically preclude the active assertion of

identity or the conscious msuiipulation of Yaqui ethnic symbols in situ­

ations of interethnic contact and communication. Group membership, as

both Despres and Barth have pointed out, is a different level of phe­ nomena them interaction, the face-to-face, give-and-take of social action across ethnic lines. Empirically, though, the general irrele-

Vcince of ethnic performance on Yaqui group membership may help to ex­ plain — or more loosely, may have something of a spill-over effect on

— the infrequency with which ethnic symbols are activated in social interaction across ethnic lines. Internally, in interaction with other

Yaquis, an individusil is under little compulsion to "perform," to 256 assert his ethnic identity. This seems to carry over into external contacts: as individuals and as a group, Yaquis feel little compul­ sion, and little need, to tell Mexicans who and what they are.

Such an interpretation is difficult to verify on a single case, a single multiethnic society. I suspect, however, that compairative material may bear this out: where an individual's group membership is based more fundamentally on achievement or performeince than on ascription, there will be a coincident meinipulation of ethnic symbols in interethnic transactions.

But some more immediate, if equally speculative, connections must now be drawn.

Polity and Ethnicity: A Trial Model

Disregarding for the moment the complex historical development of polity, economy, ceremony, and ethnicity in southern Sonora, I will present a synchronic model of Yaqui persistence as an ethnic group.

The key elements of the model have been summarized above: Yaquis form a corporate ethnic group, not simply an aggregate, an ethnic popula­ tion; membership in the group is ascribed, not achieved; ethnic identities are not strongly asserted — they are undercommunicated, not overcommunicated. And a fourth element, ignored in the preceding summary, must now be incorporated: in Yaqui society, there is a dis­ junction of the three dimensions of status — of wealth, power, and prestige. In Chapter k I reviewed evidence for this point. Economic wealth seems neither necessary nor sufficient for political power and social prestige. Power, likewise, does not stem directly from pres­ tige, nor prestige from power. In short, the convertibility of one 257

status dimension into smother is, among Yaquis, attentuated. This is

not a nev/ finding, for Spicer (195'+sl8l) observed a similar disconnec­

tion between ritual, politics, and the marginalized economy of the

19^s. What needs to be done at this point is to trace the linkages

between such status disjunctions and the other elements of Yaqui

ethnicity — of group membership, organization, and the communication

of identity. I suggest, then, the following ties,

1. The existence of a corporate Yaqui polity "allows" group mem­

bership to be based on ascription rather than achievement or perfor­

mance.

Genealogical relations are, in the abstract, clear and incon­

trovertible means of group recruitment and exclusion. In practice,

and especially in the historical context of Yaqui mobility — of migra­

tions, expulsions, intermarriages — genealogies have become complex

and clouded. As legitimate authorities within their respective

pueblos, Yaqui governors have the right to judge the validity of an

individual's claimed descent and hence of that individual's rights

within the Zone, Existence of such rights and duties demands a

definitive classification" of persons, and ethnic populations, as non­

corporate population aggregates, do not possess the legitimate

authority to make such classifications.

2. Membership by ascription in turn fosters the disjunction of

wealth, power, and prestige.

An individual Yaqui does not have to achieve group membership

through a demonstrated allegiance to, interest in, or knowledge of

Yaqui culture — except that pertaining to his own family history. 258

He does not have to participate in Yaqui ceremony, nor in Yaqui poli­ tics, Nor is he compelled by strong sanctions of ostracism to funnel wealth into these activities. The majority of Yaquis do maintain such allegiance, interest, and knowledge, but not for purposes of gaining membership in Yaqui society,

3. The relative isolation of status dimensions, one from another, fosters a continuation or persistence of ritual participation and ritual attendance.

Wealth is not essential to ritual participation, and ritual participation, expenditure, or sponsorship are not invariably demanded of those who are wealthy. The import of these factors — of the re­ siliency of Yaqui ritual to both poverty and affluence — must be viewed in comparative perspective. In the traditional civil-religious hierarchies of southern Mexico and Giiatemala, wealth, power, and prestige are tightly intertwined. An individual on his cargo career converts wealth into a series of linked ceremonial and political offices and in the process gains social prestige and political power.

Intense social pressures of gossip and ostracism are brought to bear on non-participants and, should these pressures prove insufficient, the out-going officers have the legitimate power to appoint their suc­ cessors, In colonial Mesoamerica, this combination of positive rein­ forcement and negative sanction seemnd adequate to assure participation and the maintenance of an isolating, tradition-oriented set of cere­ monies and offices (see Smith 1977).

In modernizing Middle America, the civil-religious system is a double-edged sword: it can just as quickly cut through ethnic 259 boundaries as uphold them. As local politica3. authority weakens in the onslaught of national institutions and forces of incorporation and as new alternatives for wealth become available and attractive, the tra­ ditional rich may channel their wealth in other directions: into consumer goods, into entrepreneurships. As the rich increasingly refuse to participate in traditional ritual, the burden of ceremonial support falls more heavily on the poor. They, too, refuse to partici­ pate, not from an arrogance of wealth and power, but from the simple inability to finsince the crumbling but still expensive system.

Yaqui ritual organization, by contrast, is relatively immune to these pressures of poverty and wealth. The local rich are not coerced to participate at the risk of expulsion. Local poor are not forced into crushing expenditures; they can contribute labor or simply attend the performances, and they can thus achieve social prestige»

k. Finailly, the persistence of ritual serves to maintain ethnic boundaries between Yaqui and Mexican.

As an indirect consequence of ceremonial openness and the attractiveness of Yaqui ritual performances, cultural boundaries are preserved. The argument here is dramaturgical: Yaqui rituals are designed, in part, to attract audiences; large audiences do frequently attend and thus heighten the interest and enthusiasm of both performer and observer; performer and audience gain renewed respect for Yaqui ritual and symbol. Mexicans in attendance thus continuously regenerate

Yaqui ceremony and, at the same time, observe the strength of this cultural persistence, largely unconscious of their own role in such persistence. In ritual persistence, too, there may be cause for the 260 unassertiveness of individual Yaqui ethnic identity: ritual, in a sense, performs the task of boundary maintenance, a chore which indi­ vidual Yaquis do not have to perform in daily interaction across ethnic lines.

Analytically, this chain of connection is set off by the exis­ tence and operation of the Yaqui corporate polity. Verification of such a model must rest, however, on a close examination of Yaqui his­ tory, a task outside the scope of the present report. For the issues involved are ones of ethnographic interpretation, not history alone: are there significant and predictable differences in the ethnic system of Potam and the Yaqui Zone in the 19^0s, when Spicer made his obser­ vations and recorded them, and the 1970s?

Change and Persistence in the Yaqui Zone

Massive economic change has occurred in the Yaqui Valley over the last 30 years. Yaqui pueblos have been transformed into burgoen- ing outposts of export agriculture. No longer do they fight a pre­ carious existence based on the dregs of a river whose waters have been appropriated, far upstream, for Mexican use. Yaqui polity has changed as well, from a struggling staff forced to share jurisdiction with the armies occupying the Zone, to an independent government within a state.

Corresponding changes have occrirred in t]\e Yaqui ethnic system which,

I would suggest, are congruent with ry interpretation of Yaqui ethnicity and polity in the 1970s.

Much of my interpretation rests on an apparent v/eakening of traditional sanctions, an apparent attenuation of traditional knowledge. 261

I have claimed that the strengthening of the Yaqui corporate polity

may in large measure account for these observations. A legitimate cor­

porate body, with the authority to define group membership, frees

individual Yaquis from the need to perform according to traditional

values and standards, and frees them of need to conform strictly to

traditional sanctions. I would now suggest that comparable aspects

of Yaqui ethnicity in the 19^s — as I interpret these patterns from

Spicer's writings — are not fortuitous.

During that era, Yaquis were tied closely to a set of values

and sentiments which had taken shape in the struggles of the 19th

century and had been reinforced by events of the 20th. By 19^0,

Yaquis had repossessed several of their traditional pueblos and had

been granted a degree of territorial and religious autonomy under the

C^denas decrees. In the 19^0s, though, the Yaqui polity remained

comparatively v/eak, Mexican military units occupied the Zone, and

Mexican commanders actively interfered with internal tribal affairs.

In the face of these assaults to its political integrity, Yaquis were

able to preserve their ethnic integrity by vitalizing traditional

values and sentiments.

But such changes — in political strength and in the manifes­

tation of traditional culture — are intractable to precise measure­

ment, Historical comparison appears to give some independent support

to my views of contemporary Yaqui ethnicity, but the analysis never­

theless remains simply an interpretation.. And its assessment may

finally rest not on measurement but on ethnographic method and theo­ retical perception. 262

In the field diiring the 19^0s, Spicer faced the task of ethno­ graphic description, of recording the structural and cultural outlines of a poorly understood society. He accomplished this and more — he filled in many of the pieces of everyday life. And much of his cul­ tural and structural description rests carefully on such pieces of everyday life. In the end, though, Potam (Spicer 195^) stands as an account of the rules or norms of Yaqui society, not of patterned deviations of those rules.

Because the task of structural and cultural description had been accomplished, I looked for deviations, and quickly found them, I proceeded to construct an interpretive framev;ork that would account for such deviation and also acknowledge the persistence of Yaqui cul­ ture, ritual, and ethnic identity. I suspect, though, that such deviations may have been equally prevalent in the 19^0s. And I sus­ pect there is a very good reason why such discrepencies between rule and behavior remained, for the most part, unreported and unanalyzed in past ethnography: neither the ethnographer nor the Yaquis them­ selves saw much to be concerned about. For the Sonoran Yaquis have long been comfortable with an interesting paradox: their ethnic integrity is strong enough to be inherently flexible. APPENDIX A

AREA CULTIVATED IN THE YAQUI VALLEY

Table A-1, Published estimates of area under cultivation in the Mexican Vgille del Yaqui and the Yaqui Zona Indigena, 1906-196'+, — a, Haag and Rioseco 1965; b, Compaftia Constructora Richardson 190^-1927; c, Fabila l^'i-O; d, Dabdoub 1964; e, Bartell 1965; f? Bell and McKenzie 1923; g, Banco Nacional de Credito Ejidal, S.A, 19^3*

Year Valle del Yaqui Zona Indigena

1906 1,500^ 1,000^ 1907 1908 1909 1910 8,130^ 4,300^ 1911 9,593 4,201® 2,000 1912 10,8'+5 5,438 300 1913 10,811 10,812 300 191^+ 8,874 5,689 300 1915 5,982 3,335 300 1916 6,746 6,177 300 1917 11,019 1918 12,734 1919 10,341 1920 13,026 1921 14,081 2,500^ 1922 15,678 1923 15,000'^ 15,769 192k 25,531 28,565 1925 37,633 37,033 1926 40,555

263 26k

Table A-1—Continued.

Year Valle del Yagui Zona Indi|a;ena

1927 ifif,ll8 1928 if7,676^ 1929 if6,788 1930 i+7,589 1931 ^+3,681 1932 kk,327 1933 if7,123 193^+ 47,053 1935 53,108 121' 1936 53,17^^ 54,729 533 1937 52,511^^ 56,295 758 1938 53,879'' 53,879 2,146 1939 62,561 3,339 19'+0 60,874 19^1 60,900^ 65,989 19^2 66,000 71,807 19k3 71,800 19kk 77,500 19^+5 71,800 19^6 86,600 19^7 102,600 19^8 96,600 19'f9 126,400 1950 130,100 1951 123,900 1952 106,100 1953 126,000^ 195^^ 15^,^00 1955 209,500 1956 213,700 1957 221,800 265

Table A-1—Continued.

Year Valle del Yaaui Zona Indigena

1958 212,600 1959 226,500 1960 221,300 1961 258,900 16,000^^ 1962 255,600 19,^52® 1963 23^,800 196k 256,100 LIST OF REFERENCES

ACHESON, JAMES M.

1975 The Lobster Fiefs: Economic and Ecological Effects of Territoriality in the Maine Lobster Industry, Human Ecology, Vol. 3» pp« 183-207.

ACUf^A, RODOLFO F.

197'+ Sonoran Strongmant Ignacio Pesoueira and His Times. University of Arizona Press, Tucson.

ADAhlS, RICHARD N.

1970 Crucifixion by Power; Essays on Guatemalan National Social Structure, 19^^-1966. University of Texas Press, Austin.

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